When Free Will Falls
by Sweet Victori
Summary: Lucifer is out of the cage and is currently wreaking havoc in Cas's body. Sam disappeared six months ago and hasn't been seen since, and Dean frantically searches for his brother all while trying to stop the Apocalypse. Tag to Devil in the Details. AU.
1. Back in Black

**Summary:** Tag to The Devil in the Details. AU. Lucifer has escaped and is currently wreaking havoc in Cas's body. Sam hasn't been seen since the Darkness was defeated by Lucifer, which was over two months ago. And Dean is desperately trying to fight the newly-arrived apocalypse. And the only way to stop the end of everything? Put the broken fellowship back together and have it rise up against the evil of the world. Can Team Free Will Rise once again?

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the boys. They were on my Christmas wish list, but no luck...Oh well. There's always next year.

 **Chapter 1: What happened that day**

 _Washington D.C., six months ago_

"Cas! What the hell are you doing?!" Dean yelled. Cas's blood was dripping from a cut on his hand, ready to complete the summoning spell. "Cas, you can't bring the Darkness here! She'll kill you! She'll kill everyone!" Cas shot Dean a sickening grin, and then Dean realized what he should've known all along- it's not Cas.

But Dean was not the one that freaked out. Sam stumbled backwards, a cold fear set in his eyes. "Not you," he stuttered in disbelief. "It-it can't be you."

But not-Cas was still smiling. "Good morning, sunshine. It took you long enough to figure it out." He chuckled like Sam had just told the greatest joke in the world. "I mean, seriously Sammy. And I thought our time together meant something."

"What have you done with Cas? Is he in there with you? Having two angels in one vessel can't be good for the vessel."

"Is this what we're talking about? The last time I checked the universe is ENDING!"

Dean looked at his brother, confused. Two angels? "What are you talking about? Sam, who the hell is this?"

It wasn't his brother that answered. "Oh, Sam knows me well, don't ya buddy?" He turned to Sam. "I thought you would be the first one to recognize me. After all, I was in your head for a long time." He winked at Dean. "He even crashed at my crib once or twice."

"Lucifer?! How did you escape? What have you done with Cas?" Dean demanded.

"Finally! Deanie's finally catching on! Cassie gave me a little ride out of the cage." Lucifer chuckled. "The spell doesn't work if I'm already in a meat suit!"

"Cas would never say yes to you!"

"Oh really? Like Sam would never say yes? Like Cas would never deceive you?" Lucifer cackled. "Face it, Dean, your friends aren't exactly the most trustworthy!"

"You can't summon the Darkness here," Sam said, a slight tremor in his voice. "You have no idea what you're up against."

"I know exactly what I'm up against, Sammy boy. I fought her before, remember?"

"And it took other archangels, and, you know, GOD!"

Lucifer's eyes suddenly grew cold and hard. "Watch your tone with me, Sammy. I could kill you with a snap of my fingers. I was fighting the Darkness before man was even a thought in my father's head." He got within inches of Sam's face. "You really don't want to test me today, sunshine."

The look in Lucifer's eyes makes Dean fear for Sam's life. He took his little brother by the arm and pulled him away from the devil, and stepped in between the two of them. "You're gonna have to go through me to get to him."

Lucifer let out an annoyed sigh. "I don't have time for this." With a swipe of his hand, the Winchesters flew across the room and hit the walls of the warehouse. A sharp pain shot through Dean's back, and the air is knocked out of him. Dean risked a glance at Sam. Sam was lying unconscious on the ground, blood trickling from the cut on the back of his head. Hold on, Sammy, Dean thought.

Lucifer stretched out his arm. Blood dripped from his palm onto the spell at his feet. "No," Dean said, his voice barely above a whisper. But it was too late.

The first thing Dean felt was the ground trembling. Just a little at first, like a vibration, but then it turned into a full-size earthquake. He heard a loud crack, the sound of solid cement splitting apart. The roof started to cave in, revealing the sky above. It was the middle of the day, but a darkness was surrounding the warehouse, making everything pitch black. It might have as well been night.

Dean had to roll out of the way to avoid a falling cement piece the size of his head. He looked over at his brother. Sam's head moved slightly, then started to shake back and forth, like he was trying to wake up from a bad dream. The wall behind him was cracking, ready to fall over. "Sammy, look out!" Dean yelled.

His eyes opened but the wall was already falling. He shielded his face and rolled over. There was a loud crashing sound and a cry of pain. "Sam?!" Dean cried out, panic in his voice. The a million thoughts run through Dean's head in a second, none of them good. No. Sammy can't be dead. He's okay. He has to be.

The dust settled and Dean saw Sam, still breathing. He let out a sigh of relief and ran over to him. The first thing he notice was the pained look on his little brother's face.

"Dean i-it's my leg," he panted. His leg was caught under a piece of the wall. The grimace on his face said that he was in excruciating pain.

"You're going to be fine, you hear me? Sammy? Look at me," Dean said, cupping Sam's face in his hands. Sam's expression was dazed, and his gaze looked distant, almost day-dreamy. Around them it was beginning to look like a hurricane. The wind was swirling around like a tornado, with Lucifer in the center of it all.

"Sam, we got to get out of here,"Dean said, grabbing his brother by the shirt and hoisting him up, his leg sliding out from under the wall. Sam's arm wrapped around Dean's shoulder, he supported his little brother as he stood. They made way for the door, but it was too late. The Darkness is descending on the warehouse, blocking out any light that was in the place. Dean couldn't see anything. The only reason he even knew Sam was still there was because of the arm around his shoulder.

Lucifer's voice called out, "Hello, auntie! Miss me?"

Then lightning striked in the Darkness, a full-on blinding light. Thunder boomed and the world started shaking. The little tremors turned into a huge earthquake, and Dean heard crashing all around them. There were screams of pain and laughter. Everything was falling apart at the seams, and going into a whole new world of crazy.

The fight could've lasted a minute or an hour or a year, Dean couldn't tell. But suddenly there's a big flash of light and the world stopped shaking. Everything just froze, and the Darkness disappeared. When everything cleared, there lay Amara on the ground, dead.

"See? Told you I could do it," Lucifer said with a sickening grin. Then he grimaced in pain. "The bitch hits hard, though. She's been watching too much WWE."

He rubbed his hands together. "Now are you boys ready for the main event? Apocalypse, part 2. Starring the lovely Lucifer as ruler of the world." His demeanor changed from easygoing to dark in a millisecond.

"But I'm afraid you boys won't be a part of this story." Then he smirked.

"So that's the plan? Kill us?" Sam said, defiance in his voice. Sam really didn't know where this sudden courage was coming from, but at least it made him feel brave, even for a millisecond.

"Well, duh," Lucifer said. But then he frowned. "But maybe I won't kill you all at once. At least not you, Dean,"he says, with a glance at the hunter. Then he turned to Sam, a sick, mischevious, twisted grin on his face. "But you, Sammy? I know exactly what to do with you."

One second Sam's hand was around Dean's shoulders, the next he felt the comfort of his little brother's presence disappear, along with Lucifer.

"Sammy?" Dean called out. _Oh no. No no no no_. "Sam?!"

A million worrying thoughts ran through Dean's head. He can't be gone. He can't be dead. _Lucifer couldn't kill his own vessel, could he? He wouldn't kill my baby brother, would he?_ The answer gnawed inside of Dean, ripping him apart, piece by piece-yes, yes he would.

Dean felt a lump in his throat as he looked around the empty warehouse. _I'm sorry, Sammy. I'm so, so sorry._

"SAMMY?!"


	2. Distraction

**Chapter 2: Distraction**

 **Disclaimer: Despite my constant begging, the CW won't sell me the rights to the boys. Oh well...**

 _Lebanon, Kansas_

 _Present Day_

Dean slammed the beer bottle on the table. Six months. It has been six months since Sam disappeared, and he was not one freaking step closer to finding him. Sam could be dead. He was probably dead. He probably died alone among demons, with Lucifer laughing at his pain. The thought alone made Dean clench his fists, and anger rose inside of him. The fury woke a dark force inside of him, a feeling that he hadn't felt since-well, let's not talk about that time.

The anger left him almost as soon as it came. He was too tired to get mad. He was too desperate. At the beginning, right after Sam disappeared, he had felt an uncontrollable rage inside of himself. He'd torn through book after book, called every hunter he knew, searched everywhere. But it was nothing but dead ends. After he realized that all of the leads were road blocks, he started tearing apart the Bunker, trying to vent his anger. Then, when the anger was gone and Sam still wasn't back, he started losing hope. Any hope he had then was gone now. Now all he wanted to do was find Sam's body. All he wanted to do was bring his little brother home.

He should be here, Dean thought. Sam should be right here, next to me, where he belongs.

Suddenly out of the still quiet of the Bunker, Dean's phone rang. Dean felt a small rush of hope and anticipation as he looked at the caller ID, only to have it diminish almost immediately. It wasn't Sam.

Pressing the talk button, Dean held the phone to his ear. "Hey, Jody. Any news?"

A voice filled with sympathy came through the phone's speakers. "Sorry, Dean. I've been looking everywhere. Alex and Claire look for your brother regularly. They've turned the surrounding states inside-out. We've got nothin."

Dean sighed and rubbed his hands over his tired eyes. "He's got to be somewhere, Jody. People don't disappear. Others just stop looking for them." Dean heard his brother's voice in his head as he said those words. _I won't stop looking, Sammy,_ Dean promised, as much to himself as to Sam. _I'll find you. I'll bring you home._

"You Winchesters are stubborn, I'll give you that. But you won't find Sam stuck in that bunker of yours."

Dean already knew what Jody was suggesting. "No. No hunting."

"Dean, its an easy hunt. A couple of vampires in Iowa. Nothing overwhelming."

"Not until I find Sam."

"You won't do Sam much good if you go brain dead from reading those books of yours. Go on a hunt. Kill a couple sons of bitches. Vent your anger. And then start looking for Sam again. It's been six months, Dean. You need a break."

Dean felt a small smile curl up the corners of his mouth. "You're not going to stop talking until I do it, are you?"

"Nope. You Winchesters may be stubborn, but I'm stubborn and determined."

"Fine, fine. But haven't you got any demons I could hunt? I'm looking for a little payback."

"There was a large nest of demons two states east of you, but a bunch of hunters already left to take care of those. Other than that, demon activity is eerily quiet. It's almost as if they're..."

"Waiting," Dean finished for her. "That would explain why Lucifer hasn't made his move yet. He's getting all his evil ducks in a row."

"Not exactly a comforting thought."Dean could tell she was a bit nervous. He quickly changed the subject.

"So, what was that vampire hunt?"

10 minutes later Dean was out the door of the bunker, information for the hunt in hand. Jody was right-it was a simple cut-and-dry vampire case, something that shouldn't be hard to take care of. Weapons packed in the back trunk of the Impala, he slid into the driver's seat. As he turned on the ignition and drove towards the main road, he tried to ignore the pit in his stomach as he felt the emptiness of the car, and the absence of the person who was supposed to be sitting in the passenger seat. He kept his eyes on the road, trying to concentrate on the hunt, but all he could think was, _I'll find you, little brother. If it's the last thing I ever do, I'll bring you home._

He shoved the emptiness he felt deep inside himself, put on a sad smile, and drove down the open road, AC/DC blasting through the speakers, cutting through the silence of the car. Little did Dean know that in fact, his little brother was much closer than he could have ever imagined.

-SPN-

Sam felt the excruciating pain as the knife slashed his chest, and as much as he wanted to scream, he bit his tongue . He wouldn't give the demons that satisfaction again. When he was first brought to his prison, his captors did all they could to hear his pained cries echo through the warehouse. They would laugh in his face and dare him to scream again. "Come on, little Sammy Winchester, do it again," the leader, a black-eyed bastard in the body of a muscular man, laughed. "This is the former boy king? The vessel for Lucifer? What a weak thing you are."

"Go to hell," Sam shot back for the millionth time in the past six months. He was beginning to wish that Lucifer had just killed him when he had kidnapped him all those months ago. Instead, Lucifer had brought Sam here, as close to hell as the place itself, and slowly tortured him to the point of near death. And it wasn't for information, either. When Sam had begged Lucifer to stop, Lucifer had just laughed in Sam's face and said, "Not so cocky now, are you, Sammy? You should've said yes."

The worse wasn't even the physical torture, but the mental torture. He had watched anyone he had ever loved die over and over again, in a million different ways. He saw Dean the most. Dean had died differently every time-sometimes it was fire, or a gunshot, or torture. Sometimes Sam had watched as Lucifer had carved into his older brother's skin, and sometimes Sam felt the knife in his own hands, moving under someone else's command, and no matter how much he screamed and begged for it to stop, it never did. At least not until Sam was on the floor sobbing and clutching his head.

Sometimes Dean was angry with Sam, and his green eyes would light with an uncontrollable fire. The fire would diminish and soon Dean's eyes would turn pleading, and he would look at Sam and silently beg for it to stop. And then, other times, Dean would look betrayed, like Sam had stabbed him in the back. Sam could tolerate that; he had seen that look on Dean's face before, and it was almost something normal, but still painful as hell. The worse was when Dean just accepted his fate. He would look at Sam with a look of total forgiveness, a compassionate glance that said everything, and it hurt more than any other torture the demons or Lucifer could inflict. However, no matter how each illusion started, they all ended the same-Dean's eyes going completely blank and his head falling limp.

The demons had held off on mental torture that day, though, and were currently opening up wounds that had scarred over months ago. He tried to focus on something other than the pain but found it difficult, as the pain was white-hot and blinding. He barely heard the sound of the door splintering into a million pieces, or the shouts of men or the sound of screaming. He felt a twinge of hope and he searched his dazed mind to place it somewhere, and did not realize what was happening until he felt his ropes being cut. He looked up and did not see one of his captors but the unfamiliar face of a man. The man was shouting something frantically, with enough power for it to be a command. _Dean sounds like that sometimes,_ Sam thought. Suddenly it was not his own voice in his head but Dean's, saying, _Listen. Listen to what he's trying to say._ Sam knew a command when he heard one, and he strained to listen.

"Run," the man said as the ropes slid off Sam's wrists and ankles. "You've got to get out of here. We won't be able to hold off these demons for long." When Sam's legs stayed planted to the floor, the man said, "Go! What are you waiting for?"

He heard Dean's voice in his head again, telling to go as fast as possible. He heard gunfire all around him, but his vision tunneled as he spotted the door. Stumbling, he ran for the door, tripping every few steps. The demons would've never let him go this easily, if not for the many people, presumably hunters, attempting to clean out the place. The demons were overpowering them, though, and the battle was turning into bloodbath. Already three hunters and one demon lay dead on the floor, and bullets, no matter how useless they were against demons, were flying and ricocheting off the walls.

Two steps from the door and Sam felt a sharp pain pierce his shoulder. He cried out but didn't lose his balance. Dean's voice was screaming now. _Go, Sammy! Run as fast as you can! Stay alive!_

The last line not only kept Sam moving but encouraged him to pick up his pace.

 _Stay alive._

Sam pushed the door open and felt the cold air hit his chest. He ran into the forest, the pitch black night hiding him from the demons.

 _Stay alive._

He ran until he was on the verge of collapse, unaware of the sudden silence behind him, the words echoing in his head.

 _Stay alive, Sammy._

He felt the darkness threatening to overpower him, and he slumped against a tree, wanting nothing more than to sleep.

 _See you soon, little brother._

He slipped into unconsciousness with his brother's voice in his head.

TBC


	3. Lost and Found

The first signs of twilight were breaking over the forest. A girl, with an angel's blade in her hand, stepped out of her truck, facing the warehouse. She was supposed to have gone on this demon hunt with the others, but her truck had broken down, of all things. And she doubted the hunters would have waited for her anyways; they only saw her as a sixteen-year-old girl, and not as a hunter who had been dealing with the supernatural ever since she was a small child. But when the hunters hadn't checked in like they were supposed to, she decided to go and check on them. And what she saw when she opened the warehouse door almost made her regret coming.

The place was a battlefield. Human and demon blood stained the walls and the windows. Angel blades were scattered across the floor, and some still in the demons, the blood on them still wet and fresh. It had been a massacre, and it appeared that neither human or demon got out alive. The girl shivered slightly. She could've been lying on the floor among them if she had just been on time.

She reached down to a hunter in front of her, a middle-aged man, feeling for a heartbeat she knew wasn't there. She closed her eyes in a moment of silence for the fallen, just for a second, and then stood. She knew for a fact that this man had a son, only a little younger than herself. A son that would have to live without a father.

She was going to have to give these people a hunter's funeral, which was a little too much for her to handle. She reached into her pocket for her phone when she noticed the frayed ropes on the floor. She bent down, feeling the ropes in her free hand, when suddenly a loud bang echoed through the warehouse. She immediately raised her blade, ready to fend off an attack, but stopped when she realized the banging was coming from the back door of the warehouse, which was open and slamming because of the wind.

She realized that someone, maybe a hunter, or a demon, had escaped, and either way, she had to find them. She was out the back door with her angel blade raised, following the footprints on the forest floor.

At first she didn't see anything but darkness, but then in the dim light, with the sun just peaking over the horizon, she saw a body leaned against a tree. It was a man in his early thirties, but he was impossibly skinny and pale as death. He was unnaturally still.

The girl leaned in closer to check for breathing. Suddenly the man gasped in a deep breath and the girl jumped backward in surprise. "Oh God you're still alive," she said, still a little shaken. The man looked at her with wild eyes but a dazed expression. One his hands immediately came to shield his face, as if she was going to hurt him. "Don't worry, I'm not a demon. I'm not going to hurt you." She pulled a flask of holy water out of her back pocket and splashed a little bit on her face. "See? Here. Your turn."

She held the water out to him. He grabbed it out of her hand and took a big gulp. She should've guessed that he would've been thirsty. He didn't look like he'd had enough to drink in a long time. She noticed blood staining the man's shoulder. "Let me look at that."

The man still flinched a little, but he didn't move to protect himself. She examined the wound on his shoulder, and suddenly noticed the scars crisscrossing his chest. She gave him a look of sympathy and mumbled, "What kind of hell have you been through?"

Upon expecting the wound, she found it was a graze wound, but still pretty serious. Between the scars and the wound, and the possibility of hypothermia, she knew that she had no other choice. "We have to get you to a hospital."

The man's eyes, which had been on the verge of closing, shot open. "No. No hospitals. They're…not safe." He spoke between pants, as if every breath hurt.

"But…I don't know how to treat this. I'm not a doctor."

"My brother…can help. Lebanon, Kansas. The bunker. Safe."

The girl was reluctant to go—this man really needed a hospital. But if this really was a safe place, then she couldn't deny him the chance to see his family. God knew how long he'd been gone. And she knew how it felt to miss loved ones.

"Okay. We'll go to Kansas. My car is not too far away from here. Can you walk?"

The man nodded weakly and started to stand. No sooner had he gotten on his feet than when he started to fall. She grabbed his good arm and helped him back up. "One step at a time, okay?"

The man used her shoulders as a brace. She was almost a foot shorter than him and she almost buckled under his weight. He stumbled forward and she was there to keep him upright. "This way." She pointed him in the direction of the warehouse and her car.

"My name is Tara, by the way," she said as they slowly progressed towards her car. "What's yours?"

"Sam."

"Nice to meet you Sam. So this, uh, bunker of yours, are you sure it's safe?"

This got a small chuckle from Sam. "Safest place on earth."

"Must be some place. In Lebanon? Not exactly the place I would've guessed as the 'safest on earth'."

"You'd be surprised."

"I really should take you to a hospital, you know. You don't exactly look like a picture of perfect health." At the look that was given her, she quickly added, "Don't worry. I'm taking you to Kansas. I was just wondering why you were so intent on going there. You have a lot of faith in my medical abilities."

"I have faith in my brother."

"Fair enough. Are you sure he's going to be there, though?"

"Yes." It was the first thing he'd said that was strong and sure, without the tremble that had accompanied his voice.

They arrived at the car. Sam slumped in the front seat while Tara went to the back of the truck to get the first aid kit. She suddenly remembered the hunters in the warehouse. She pulled out her phone and dialed. "Garth? Hey. I found those hunters. It's not pretty. No one got out alive. But listen, can you send other hunters to clean this up? I found this guy, and he's hurt badly. I'm getting him some help and I can't stop to clean up this mess."

"Sure thing," came the reply from the other end of the line, and that was it. A lot of hunters still didn't know that Garth was a werewolf, and even though she had found out she promised to keep it under wraps.

She hung up, pulled out the first aid kit and a blanket, and went over to Sam in the passenger seat. He was breathing heavily and shivering violently. She took a bandage and some antiseptic out of the kit and started cleaning the wound in his arm. When he winced, she muttered a slight apology and started wrapping the bandage around his upper arm. She eyed her handiwork warily. It wasn't as good as a professional doctor would have done it but under the circumstances it would have to do. Seeing Sam still shivering, she handed him the blanket.

"Th-thanks," Sam stuttered out, giving her a small, grateful smile. She was about to go to the driver's side when Sam called out, "Wait."

"What is it?"

"You n-need a k-key to get in to the bunker."

"Where would that be?"

He raised a shaky arm and pointed at the warehouse. She paled slightly and gave an exasperated sigh as she walked towards the warehouse. She'd give anything not to look at the horror show inside but it seemed that she had no other choice. As soon as she walked in, she spotted it right away. If it had been a normal key it would have been harder to find, but instead it was an old-fashioned large metal key, and a demon had been clutching it tightly to its chest. Prying it from the demon's cold, dead fingers, she shivered. She'd seen too much death today.

She made it back to the truck to find Sam's eyes closed. After checking for a pulse and finding it strong, she walked to the driver's side and started the car. Tara pulled the truck out of the driveway and turned onto the road, driving away from the warehouse and into the rising sun.

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNS

Dean packed his bag in the motel room. Jody had been right- the vampire hunt had been a piece of cake. Just a couple head shots and the whole thing was over. But instead of making him feel better, it made him feel worse. Sure, it took his mind off of his problems for a little while, but all it took was a glance at the empty seat in the Impala or the extra bed in the motel room and he was back to feeling empty inside. Cas was being possessed by Lucifer. Sam was missing. Dean suddenly seemed to realize just how alone he was.

He glanced at the clock-2:00 AM. If he left now, he could be back to the bunker before sunrise. But there was nothing waiting for him there- no family, no home. There was nothing to go back to. He looked at the clock again, and stopped packing. The bar next door would be open for another couple of hours, and that was more than enough time for him to drink away his problems.

At least the headache he would have in the morning would take his mind off of things.


	4. Homecoming

Sam woke up for the first time in the middle of Missouri. It looked like he was having a nightmare, and when he woke he had the same panicked look in his eyes as when Tara found him.

"It's just me, remember?" She said.

He nodded as a sign of recognition. She decided to ask another question.

"So I know you gave me the city, but could you be a little more specific as to where this bunker is? Like, coordinates?" She handed him a piece of paper and a pen. He scribbled a couple of numbers on the paper and handed it to her. She inputted the coordinates into her GPS. When she looked over at him again, he was passed out. She turned her eyes back to the road.

He didn't wake up again until they reached the bunker. That was when Tara realized why Sam called it a bunker. It was a big building that looked like it could withstand a nuclear blast. There was no way anything could break into there.

She took the key and turned it into the lock of the large metal door. With a click of mechanisms, the door swung open into a dark room.

Tara walked back to the car and opened the passenger side door. Sam was already awake and alert, like he could sense where he was. He was already halfway out of the car. Grabbing his arm to keep him upright, they made their way towards the bunker. Tara flipped on the lights with her free hand, and stared in amazement at the scene set before her. There was no time for her to stand in awe, however, as Sam kept moving. It was as if something was pulling him forward, calling him home.

With every step he moved more quickly, navigating the maze that was the bunker easily. _He could probably do it blindfolded,_ Tara mused. He stopped in a bedroom that looked like it hadn't been touched for months. Everything was in perfect condition, just waiting for their owner to come home. _And now Sam is home,_ Tara thought to herself with a smile. _I helped bring someone home._

Everything didn't stay in its pristine condition for long. Sam collapsed on the bed, and suddenly the room didn't look so empty anymore. He pulled the covers up, closed his eyes, and visibly relaxed. _This really is a safe place,_ Tara thought. _I wish I had a place like this._

She walked all the way down the hall and almost made it out the door when she stopped. Yes, the guy was home, but his brother, wherever he was, wasn't there. She'd driven 15 hours from Georgia to get this guy home, but could she really just leave him here? She wanted to leave, she really did. But she came this far, and it wasn't like she needed to be anywhere. She pressed her forehead against the door, exasperated. She took a deep breath and opened the door, walking into the sunshine.

Only to come back in with her duffle bag 5 minutes later. She'd stay. Why not?

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

Dean had a major headache as he drove down the road. _That's what happens when you drink yourself into a stupor,_ he thought with a cynical smile spreading across his tired face. He'd stayed at the bar until they finally kicked him out at nine a.m. By then he'd already managed to get himself extremely drunk and had barely managed to make it back to the hotel before passing out on the bed. He heard Sam's voice in his head telling him not to drive home drunk, but he'd ignored it. It really didn't matter if he crashed the car now. His brother was gone, and without him in the passenger seat life didn't seem to matter that much anymore. He'd crashed when he got to the motel and had slept a full 24 hours. And now, at 10:00 a.m., he was driving back to the bunker with the headache of the century.

The first thing he noticed when he got back to the bunker was the red truck parked in front of the entrance. He narrowed his eyes at the unfamiliar object. It could be demons or vampires or a million other things that wanted to kill him and steal the secrets from the bunker. For a fleeting second he had a hope that it was Sam, but the hope died quickly. Sam would've called him, and he would've been there in half the time. He pushed back the tears that threatened to fall, and instead turned the sadness into anger. He grabbed a gun loaded with silver bullets and handcuffs from the glove compartment and went inside.

He heard the sound of running water coming from the kitchen. He cocked his gun and listened as footsteps came from the kitchen. As soon as he saw the shadow, he turned the corner and pointed the gun at the source of the noise…

And came face to face with a very surprised teenage girl.

Sure, it wasn't what he had been expecting, but looks could be deceiving. It could still be a demon or a vampire or a werewolf, so he still held the gun steady.

"What are you? What are you doing here?!" Dean demanded.

The girl slowly raised her hands in surrender. "Okay, calm down. I'm human."

Dean eyed her suspiciously. She didn't exactly look evil. She was dressed in an oversized sweatshirt and blue jeans and looked more tired than dangerous. But if she was dangerous, then he couldn't take any chances.

"I'm gonna ask one more time, and for your sake I hope you answer. What are you doing here?"

"I brought that guy in, the one I found in the woods? I wanted to take him to a hospital, but he said it wasn't safe and he wanted to come here. I should've taken him to a hospital, 'cause he was half dead when I found him, but I decided to do what he wanted and bring him here. And what do I get? A gun pointed at my face."

Dean stared at her like she had started talking in tongues. A man? Could it be… No. It wasn't possible. Sam was dead. He died at Lucifer's hands, all alone, probably screaming…Dean shook the thought out of his head. It was too painful. He pushed back the lump in his throat, but a sense of hope had risen in his chest.

"Where is he, this guy you brought in?"

"In his room. Or what I think is his room, the third one on the left. I don't know if it's his room. We haven't really spoken since I found him. Now can you please lower the gun?"

Dean lowered his gun slowly and both of them relaxed. But then, as quick as lightning, Dean grabbed the girl's wrist, slapped the handcuffs on, and locked them to the leg of the table. He ignored her protests and started towards what he really hoped was the only family he had left. His pace quickened, and before he knew it he was running. He found the third door on the left and stopped. What if it wasn't Sam? He'd been hoping to find his brother for so long, to keep the promise he made when they were just kids. It was his job to keep Sammy safe, and after all the times he'd let his brother down, he couldn't stand to do it one more time. He held his breath as he turned the doorknob.

What Dean saw when he opened the door almost stopped his heart. Because Sam was there, he was alive, he was safe, and that was all Dean could ask for. He was at his brother's side in a second, reaching out a hand just to make sure his brother was real. His fingers ran through his brother's much too long hair, and Dean almost sobbed with relief. _I thought you were dead, Sammy. I thought that I had failed you again and that you were dead, or worse. But you're here, and you're okay, and if you're not okay then I'm going to put you back together again. I'm not leaving you. I promise._

"So I guess that you're the brother he was talking about," came a voice from the doorway. Dean turned to see the girl leaning against the door frame.

"How did you get out of the cuffs?"

She rolled her eyes. "I know how to pick a lock. It's not that difficult." She nodded towards Sam. "Is he alright? I did my best patching him up."

Dean swallowed and nodded. "I think he's going to be okay." His voice broke for a second, but he quickly recovered. "What happened to him? And who are you?"

"My name is Tara DiAngelo. I found your brother in the woods, in Georgia. There was a large amount of demon activity in the area, and I was supposed to meet up with some hunters to help clear the place out."

Dean looked up from his brother's sleeping form. "Aren't you a little young to be a hunter? How old are you anyway?"

Tara looked annoyed, as if she got that question a lot. "I'm sixteen, and I'll be seventeen in October." Seeing the skeptical look on Dean's face, she jumped to defend herself. "I'm a pretty decent hunter. I've been hunting since I was fourteen, and I've faced a lot of supernatural creatures on my own and lived to tell about it. Of course, the other hunters still think I'm a kid, which I guess I am, so they've never really been willing to work with me. I guess that was kind of a blessing."

"What do you mean?"

"My car broke down, and the other hunters didn't wait for me. When I got to them…" She shivered at the thought of what she'd seen. "They're dead. All of them."

The room got really quiet for a second, and then Dean said, "I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "Nothing to be sorry for. It wasn't your fault." She sighed and gave a sad smile. "It's just a shame, you know? I know for a fact that almost every hunter involved had family, family that will never see their loved ones again." She smiled again, except it was genuine this time, and nodded at Sam. "But hey, at least I brought somebody's family home."

Dean smiled too, for the first time in months, and looked back at his brother. "Where does Sam fit in to all of this?"

"I found him outside of the warehouse where I found the hunters. He had a grazed gunshot wound on his arm and was almost frozen to death, not to mention the scars."

Dean's head shot up. "What scars?"

Tara reached over and pulled the covers down, revealing the many, many scars, some of them quite new, crisscrossing Sam's chest. Dean stared at them, a sudden realization that his brother _was not_ fine, and might not have been fine for months. His brother might be gone, truly gone, gone to a place that his older brother could not pull him back from. Because Dean recognized those kinds of scars; he'd had them all over his chest when he was in hell. Dean's heart sank and was replaced with a fiery vengeance. His little brother was tortured, and _no one_ gets away with that. Not even the devil himself.

Dean was brought back to his senses by a tap on his shoulder. "Are you okay?" Tara asked. "You kinda spaced out for a second there."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Dean lied. In reality he felt a little sick to his stomach, but he couldn't show that. Winchesters didn't do stuff like that.

Dean turned to Tara and crossed his arms. "Look, kid, I really appreciate this, but I can handle this now. You can go home."

A moment of sadness flashed through Tara's brown eyes, and it was replaced with anger. But her tone was totally neutral when she said, "I don't have a home to go to."

"Come on, you've got to have some family to go back to."

She tried to force a smile, even though her eyes filled with pain. "I became a hunter for a reason. Every hunter has their reason to start. Can you guess my reason?"

Dean was taken aback a little bit. This girl couldn't have been more than 18 and she already had the tragic backstory part of a hunter's backstory covered. For a moment, he wondered if he should ask what happened, but remembering the pain that had filled Tara's eyes, he shook the thought away.

Tara tried to play it off as she nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders. "Besides, I drove 15 hours straight to get here and I haven't slept in 36 hours. I've already put in this much time, so I might as well see it through."

She held out her hand. "We haven't been properly introduced. My name is Tara Di Angelo, I'm 16 years old, and I'm a hunter. And you are?"

Dean gave a tired smile and shook her hand. "Dean Winchester."

Tara dropped his hand and gaped at him, her eyes wide. "Dean Winchester? _The_ Dean Winchester?"

"The one and only," Dean replied, feeling a little confused. "Do you know me or something?"

"Well who doesn't know you?! You're Dean Winchester! You and your brother are famous in the hunting world!" Her eyes widen even more when another realization hit. "Your brother! Oh my God, your brother, Sam! He told me his name but I never put two and two together. I'm such an idiot." She looked at Dean with admiration. "You two are awesome."

"Wait, hold on. Me and Sam are famous?"

"Well duh. Everyone still tells stories about what happened during the Apocalypse. How Sam took control and chucked Lucifer back into the pit, and sure, some hunters are still angry that Sam started the whole thing, but they know they don't stand a chance against you two. You guys are the best in the business. You two are heroes."

Dean could list a million reasons why that wasn't true, but instead he just said, "Thanks, kid."

The room got really quiet for a moment as Dean processed this information. Then Tara's phone rang, ending the silence. She didn't even need to look at the caller ID to know who it was.

"Hey, Garth. Did you get the hunter's taken care of?"

"Yeah, and from what I hear it wasn't pretty. Is it true that no one got out alive?"

"Yeah."

Tara heard Garth sigh on the other side of the line. "That sucks, man. That's some heavy stuff."

Seeing Dean staring at her, Tara said, "Listen, Garth, I've got to go." Her voice softened for a second when she said, "And Garth? Give my condolences to the Anderson kid, and find the him someone to stay with. That poor boy is an orphan now."

Garth was silent for a moment before saying, "Yeah, I can do that."

"Thanks, Garth. And be careful."

The call ended and Dean asked, "Garth? You called Garth to take care of this? How do you even know Garth?"

"Everyone knows Garth. Garth is the guy who finds hunts for the hunters who can't find any. Of course, it's an anonymous number and he goes by a codename. He can't have his secret getting out."

This seemed to surprise Dean even more. "You know his secret too?"

"The werewolf thing? I kinda ran into him on a hunt a year or so ago. He didn't seem to be hurting anyone so I decided to leave him alone. He talks about you guys a lot." A grin spread across her face. "You two might as well be gods in his eyes. You should pay him a visit sometime."

"I'm surprised he's still in the hunting business. You would think that with his, um, condition, he would stay away from this sort of thing."

"Hey he knows a lot about a lot of supernatural beings. His library is pretty impressive. Not as impressive as yours, though. This place is a hunter's paradise."

Dean noticed the book on the table next to Sam's bed titled, 'Levels of paranormal activity: explained'. "I see you've been doing a little light reading."

"What else was I supposed to do? Besides, I can appreciate a good book."

Dean turned back to Sam and asked, "How long has he been like this?"

"Do you mean unconscious or practically comatose? Because on the car ride over he was unconscious but as soon as we got here it was like he was on autopilot or something. He came in here and passed out cold. He hasn't really moved since, which is a real improvement given the state he was in before."

"And what state was that exactly?"

"Panicked. Restless. Even when he was unconscious on the way over here he kept mumbling and talking complete gibberish. It was like a fever dream. He didn't calm down until he got here." She looked around the room. "I guess he knew where he was going."

 _Home,_ Dean thought with a small smile. _He was going home._

Tara, who was studying Dean warily, said, "No offense, but you look like shit."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks."

"I'll go make some coffee. I have a feeling that this is going to be a long night."

Dean's eyes never strayed from his brother, afraid that if he looked away Sam would disappear into thin air. The night dragged on but Dean stayed put, holding on as tight as he could to the brother he vowed would never slip away again.

 **A/N: Hey guys! Sorry this chapter is so late. It's been a busy summer. So, anyway, next chapter is when we get the big brotherly moment: Sam wakes up! I'll try to have it up before next week. Just remember: When Supernatural is on hiatus, I've got your back. Also, I'll be posting a oneshot called "Castiel's Story" shortly. It's just like the title says.**


	5. Half of a Goodbye

Tara was right- it was a long night. Even with the coffee, both Dean and Tara were beginning to feel the effects of sleep deprivation. Tara dozed off at around 1:00 am, and when she woke up half an hour later, Dean insisted that she lay down in the guest room and get a couple of hours of sleep. When she protested, saying that Dean should get some sleep, he simply shrugged it off and said he wasn't tired. Which was a lie, of course, but the kid looked exhausted, and someone needed to watch Sam. So while Tara caught an hour or two of sleep in the other room, Dean talked to his brother.

He talked for hours, and about everything. He talked about when they were kids, about the stuff Sam did even when he was just a baby. He talked about their mom, and how he knew that she would've loved Sam just as much as Dean did. He talked and talked until his voice was sore, all with the hope that Sam would open his eyes. And he didn't get what he was hoping for until early the next morning.

It was about 4:00 am, on the late side of the twilight hours, when Sam stirred. Dean, who had been as immovable from his brother's bedside as a rock, felt his brother shift. He raised his weary eyes to his brother's form, and saw Sam's eyes squint and blink open, adjusting to the dimly lit room.

"Sammy?" Dean asked softly, silently praying that his brother was okay and would answer him.

Sam turned his eyes towards the origin of the voice, and was immediately filled with relief at the sight of his brother.

"Dean?"

That's all it took. Dean pulled his brother into a tight embrace, months' worth of worry and fear dissolving in an instance. Sam leaned into his older brother, and was suddenly filled with a happiness he couldn't describe. He had seen his brother die at the hands of Satan every day in the past six months, but this? This was real, this was safe. Despite everything that both brothers had been through, they were together now and that was all that mattered.

After staying locked together for a minute or two, Sam reluctantly pulled away. As good as the hug felt, there was a lot of work to be done as well.

Dean studied his brother, looking for possible wounds or any signs of pain. "How you feeling, Sammy?"

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, and let out a small chuckle. "I'm surprisingly tired, but other than that, I'm fine."

"How's the shoulder?"

"I don't think it's infected, if that's what you're asking."

"Take off the bandages. I'll have a look at it."

Sam didn't protest. It felt so good to have his brother back and looking after him, just like the old days. God he had missed this.

Each brother was so caught up in the relief of the situation that neither noticed the sixteen-year-old girl standing in the doorway, watching the moment with a sad smile. She turned away and left without making a single sound.

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

"How much do you remember?"

Sam's mind instantly jumped to his time in captivity, but he tried to play it off. "You're going to have to be more specific."

"Don't play dumb, Sam. You know what I'm talking about."

The fake smile Sam had been wearing left his face. "I remember more than I want to remember, okay? Let's just leave it at that."

Although Dean wanted to know more, he didn't dare press on. If it pained Sam to remember, then Sam wouldn't have to remember any more than he had to, god damn it. The kid had been through enough already. "No argument here, Sammy."

But there was still one thing Dean had to know. "What do you remember about when you got out."

"Gunshots. A lot of gunshots, and the swinging of angelic blades. It was chaos. Demons and hunters were dying left and right, but this one guy came up to me and cut my ropes. He told me to run." Sam stopped talking, memories of that night resurfacing.

Dean cast his brother a worried expression. "And then what happened, Sam?"

"I ran. I ran fast and hard and until I passed out. And then I came to a couple of hours later, and there was a girl putting a bandage on my arm. She helped me. She brought me here." Sam looked around the room. "Where is she, anyway?"

"She went to the guest room a couple of hours back to catch a nap. She looked pretty exhausted, almost as much as you."

Sam started standing, and Dean rushed to put an arm around Sam's shoulder to steady him. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm going to say thanks," Sam said.

"Sam, you don't have to get up."

"Yes, I do. I'm going to have to do it eventually."

Dean let out an exasperated sigh but felt a small smile cross his face. His brother was incredibly stubborn, and it was yet another thing Dean had missed about his brother.

Together they stumbled down the hallway to the guest room where Tara was temporarily staying, only to find the door wide open with the lights on. The bed was neatly made and all of Tara's things were gone.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean exclaimed in frustration. "She made a run for it."

"Why would she do that?" Sam wondered aloud. Then a thought came to his head. "Dean, you did do the drill, right? The holy water, silver blade thing?"

The realization struck Dean like a lightning bolt. "Oh shit! I forgot!"

"How do you forget something like that?"

"It was a long day! I had a lot on my mind! Besides, isn't the bunker supposed to be warded against monsters?"

"Not if she's something new. And if she is a monster…" Sam and Dean shared a look, thinking the same thing.

"Then we just let her in to the most powerful place on earth."

Dean helped Sam over to the bed and took his gun out of his waistband. "Stay here, Sammy." As Sam opened his mouth to protest, Dean glared at him. "I mean it."

As soon as Dean was out the door, Sam was up and walking too. Seeing his brother in the hallway to his left, he turned right. He grabbed a gun from his room before heading towards the library. He heard the sound of footsteps coming from the library and slowed his pace, silent in his approach. He cocked the gun and pointed it in the direction of the footsteps, directly at Tara, who was halfway up the stairs to the door.

"Going somewhere?"

Tara cringed and turned around, facing Sam and the gun with her hands in the air. "I should probably know better than to try to sneak out."

"Why are you trying to sneak out in the first place? Who are you? What are you?" Sam held the gun steady and moved forward, his eyes never leaving his target.

Tara sighed but kept her hands above her head. "Like I told your brother, I'm human."

"Prove it."

Tara reached for the inside of her jacket and pulled out a knife. Sam was ready to shoot when she said, "Woah! Calm down. It's a silver knife. If I were a monster, could I do this?" She drew the knife across her forearm. The knife didn't burn her skin.

Sam kept his gun raised and said, "Christo."

"I'm not a demon, either. I told you, I'm human."

"So if you're actually human, then why are you sneaking out?" Sam lowered his gun slightly but didn't let his guard down.

Tara smiled sheepishly. "I figured it would save the awkwardness of goodbye."

"So you were just going to leave, without any word or anything?"

"You had your brother back, and it wasn't like I was going to see you two again. Besides, I found a hunt, a couple states over. Sounds like a couple of vamps. Nothing I can't handle."

Sam lowered his gun completely. He didn't know why, but for some reason he trusted that this girl was no threat to him or his brother. "Aren't you a little young to be a hunter?"

"If I had a dime for every time I heard that, I wouldn't've had to steal my truck."

Sam cracked a small smile, and the bunker was silent for a moment. Then Tara spoke up again. "This is the kind of awkwardness I was trying to avoid."

"I just wanted to say thanks. You know, for saving my life and all?"

"I didn't really do much. I was basically just your ride here."

Sam shook his head. "No really, I mean it. If you hadn't been there, I don't think I would've made it back here."

"This isn't one of those 'you saved my life, and now I'm forever in your debt' situation, is it?"

"No, nothing like that," Sam said with a smile. Before he could say anything else, Dean burst into the library with his gun raised. Sam motioned for him to put his gun down, and he hesitantly lowered it.

"So…can I go now?" Tara asked, eyeing the gun in Dean's hand. "Preferably without getting shot at."

"Yeah. Just wait a second." Sam grabbed a pad of paper from the library desk, scribbled something down and handed it to Tara. She eyed it suspiciously.

"What's this?"

"It's my cell phone number." At Tara's surprised and rather defensive expression, Sam quickly added, "No, not like that. If you ever need a favor or anything, just call."

Tara seemed to think it over for a second before her face broke in to a grin. "So this _is_ a 'forever in your debt' situation!"

That earned smiles from both of the brothers. Tara raised her hand and did a little goodbye salute. "Catch ya later, Winchesters." And just like that, she was out the door.

As soon as the door was shut, Dean turned to Sam and lightly punched him on his good arm. "Next time I ask you to stay, stay."

"I'm not a dog, Dean. Besides, according to you I never listen, so why start now?"

Dean shook his head and tried to suppress the grin that was inching its way across his face. He turned his attention back to the closed door at the sound of an engine outside. "Do you think she was telling the truth?"

"I did the test. She checked out as human. Besides, as far as I know, she didn't take anything."

"You think she'll actually call?"

Sam shrugged. "Who knows? We've got bigger things to worry about. Lucifer is still out there somewhere."

"Well then," Dean said, a determined glint in his eye, "We've got work to do."

 **Hey guys! I should probably stop making excuses for why chapters are so late. Let's face it, I'm not good at updating. But even during the school year, I'm going to try and update as often as I can.**

 **Reviews are welcome!**


	6. Language of the Winchesters

**Chapter 6: The Language of the Winchesters**

The days dragged on as Sam and Dean poured through every book they had in the bunker, searching for anything they could use to defeat Lucifer. Sam slowly got his strength back, over Dean's watchful eye, and the scars on his body started to fade. But the nightmares didn't.

The nightmares were intense; anyone could've seen that. The first time Sam had a nightmare was the third day after his return. Dean had heard Sam screaming and had burst into Sam's room, ready to shoot a cartridge of bullets into anything that dare threaten his brother. Instead Dean had found his little brother tossing and turning in a cold sweat, begging for Lucifer to stop. Sam had woken to his brother stroking his hair and whispering comforts into Sam's ear until he fell into a dreamless sleep. It was something that wasn't mentioned the next morning but was wordlessly appreciated.

Dean kept wondering what had happened when Sam was missing. He had been tortured, that much was obvious, but Dean needed to know exactly what happened. It was the only way he could help Sam get through this. Plus, he needed to know just how much pain he had to inflict on Lucifer. Judging by Sam's nightmares, Lucifer would be begging for mercy by the time Dean got to him.

Every time Dean asked him about it, Sam would clam up fast. His eyes would study the floor and he would do everything he could to avoid the topic. He'd change the subject to anything but Lucifer, or tell Dean that he didn't want to talk about it. Once, on a particularly bad day, Sam just got up and left the room. A mysterious fist-sized hole appeared in the hallway outside of Sam's room, but Sam never said anything about it so Dean didn't ask. And that's the way it went, day after day.

Until one early morning about a month after Sam had come home.

It was another long night for the Winchester brothers. They were chugging down coffee by the gallon, just trying to stay awake. Judging by the dark rings under his little brother's eyes, Dean guessed it was time to turn in for the night.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean said, putting a hand on Sam's shoulder and gently shaking him. "It's time to hit the hay."

Sam stared up at his brother through exhausted eyes. Instead of the agreement Dean was expecting, Sam shook his head and said, "You go ahead. I'm going to stay up a little longer."

If anyone else had heard that, they would've simply shrugged their shoulders and gone to bed, certain that Sam would be asleep shortly after they left. But Dean knew the willpower of his stubborn little brother, and he also knew that Sam never did anything without a reason. Sam's geeky brain should be screaming at him to get some sleep, so either he's ignoring the logic of the situation (which would be a first), or there was no part of Sam that wanted to go to bed. And the last time Sam refused to sleep was when Lucifer was playing mind games.

"Sam? You okay?" Dean felt like screaming for his brother to tell him what the hell was happening, but yelling always led to more yelling and someone walking out the door. There was no way in hell that Dean was letting Sam walk out, not after him being gone for so long. So Dean kept his voice quiet and surprisingly gentle.

"I'm fine," Sam said, his voice shaking. _Don't pull that line with me, Sammy,_ Dean thought to himself. _Don't forget that I'm the one who taught you that line._

"Come on, Sam. We both know that's not true. You can't keep avoiding this!"

Sam looked like he was going to shut up again like he usually did. Dean immediately regretted the harshness in his voice. He waited for the inevitable angry outburst from his brother, but it never came, which worried Dean even more.

He looked at Sam, who had gotten very quiet, as he had before. But there was no rage in his eyes, only remorse. He looked… broken, and despite his height, incredibly small. It still both amazed and scared Dean how vulnerable Sam could look. Those goddamn puppy dog eyes.

It took a few seconds of silence until Sam spoke up. "It was like hell."

Dean stared at his brother with wide and shocked eyes. Torture was bad enough. But if it was really like hell, _Sam's_ hell, that meant mind games. Mind games that haunted Sam and almost pushed him to the brink of insanity. Dean had to ask the question his brain was screaming at him. "If it was like hell, like your time in hell, does that mean… I mean, are you seeing…?"

"Am I seeing Lucifer right now?" Sam finished his brother's question. "No."

"So when you say it was like hell, you mean…?"

"The same things as my time in hell, minus the Lucifer visions." Sam took a shaky deep breath. "They break you and break you and put you back together so they can break you again."

Dean shivered. He remembered his time in hell and what the demons could to you. They treated torture like an art form, like the knife was a paintbrush and a soul was the bloody canvas. The cuts were precise and meant to be as painful as possible. And Sam had just endured six months of that. Six months plus the year and a half he spent in hell equaled way too much time that his brother had spent at the hands of demons. If Dean were anyone else, he would assume that was why Sam looked like he was falling apart.

But Dean was Sam's big brother. And he knew from the look in Sam's eyes that he wasn't telling him everything.

"What else, Sam?" Dean watched as Sam tried to make his _I don't know what you're talking about_ face and then give up half way through when he saw Dean wasn't buying it.

"There were visions too, Dean."

"And what did you see?"

"What does anyone see when demons are messing with their head? I saw death. Especially death of the people I care about. Over and over and over again." Sam looked up at his brother with pleading eyes. "And do you know what, Dean? It felt normal. It feels like all I ever do is watch my friends, my _family,_ die. And it's always because of me."

"Sam that's not true."

"Oh really?" Sam was shouting now. "Everyone who has ever gotten close to me has died. I killed Kevin. I killed Charlie. I killed Mom, Dad, Jess, Ash, Ellen, Jo, Pamela and anyone else who has ever gotten close to me. You said it yourself that I should've died instead of Charlie, and you're right. I shouldn't be here, Dean. I'm the one that should've died. Not them."

"Stop it! Sam, stop!" Dean yelled, and something in his voice made Sam pause. "I said some things that I shouldn't have, because I was angry. And for that I'm sorry. But don't you ever, _ever_ think that you'd be better off dead. I can't do this without you, Sam. I never have, and I never will. You're my brother, the only family I've got left, and the last thing I would _ever_ want is to lose you."

Sam looked at his shoes. "But all the things I've done? Who says I deserve to be forgiven?"

"I say you do." Sam slowly raised his head and looked at Dean with his puppy dog eyes. Dean continued, determined to make a point. "So you've made mistakes. Join the club. Every time you made a mistake you fixed it, usually risking your life do it. You have given _everything_ to do the right thing, and you have saved so many people. If anyone _ever_ reserved redemption it's you, Sam!"

Sam was trembling now, like he was about to fall about any second. Dean put a hand on his brother's shoulder, and Sam stilled, leaning into his brother's touch.

There was so much more that Dean wanted to say. He wanted to spend all night putting his brother together piece by piece until he was whole again. He wanted to emphasize just how much Sam meant to him, if the blockhead hadn't figured it out already. But Winchesters didn't do that. He had to cover any sign of emotion with a smart-assed remark or a stupid joke.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean said softly. "Something tells me that you should get some sleep. You're not looking so good."

Emotional outburst followed by a witty remark. Business as usual.

Sam's legs shook as he stood up. With one hand wrapped around his brother's shoulders, Dean guided Sam to his room and his bed. Sam didn't even bother to change, instead opting to collapse on the bed, physically and emotionally exhausted. With his job done, Dean was halfway out the door, but stopped when he heard his brother call to him.

"Dean?" Dean turned around, ready to give whatever was necessary to put his brother back together.

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"Thanks for… everything." Sam wanted to list out every single time his big brother had been awesome, but that was too many things to count. Instead, he thanked his brother the only way he knew how. And, as always, Dean got the message loud and clear.

"No problem, little brother. Just doing my job." A small smile tugged at the corner of Dean's mouth. "But no chick flick moments, got it?"

"Whatever you say. G'night, jerk."

"Same goes to you, bitch."

It wasn't the healing Dean had been hoping for, but it was a start. Sam _was_ going to get better and they _were_ going to stop the devil and save the world. It was a tall order for anybody, but they were Winchesters for the love of God. It didn't matter what the hell the world threw at them because they would take it head-on, side by side, just like the way they always did. They were brothers, they were _family_ , and nothing in heaven or hell could change that.

 _You'd better watch your back, Lucifer,_ Dean thought, _because the Winchesters are hot on your trail. And this time you're gonna wish you were back in your Cage._

 **TBC**


	7. Meeting with an Ice Queen

**Chapter 7**

Of all the monsters the Winchesters had ever faced, one of the worst ones would have to be cabin fever. Sure, it was nice to study in the bunker for a week or so, just to take a break from the very busy and dangerous life of a hunter, but after a month? They needed to kill something evil or kill each other.

So, like most people would in their position, they opted to kill something evil.

Dean woke to Sam packing a duffel bag, and immediately felt his stomach drop, fearing the worst. Of course, he didn't let this show on his face. "Where you going, Sam?"

"I found a hunt that's not too far away. We could be there by noon if we left now."

As soon as Dean heard the "we", he knew he didn't have to worry about Sam running off on his own. He also didn't seem to need to worry about packing either, because Sam already had Dean's duffel out and half packed. Less than 10 minutes later and they were in the Impala, speeding down the pavement, AC/DC blasting through the speakers.

There was something just so _right_ about the whole picture that Dean had to smile. His brother riding shotgun, the purr of the Impala's engine beneath their feet, and the whole open road ahead of them. This was home, and _oh God_ had he missed this.

Sam felt it too, and for the first couple minutes of the drive the brothers sat in complete silence, taking it all in and relishing every moment. Finally, Dean spoke up.

"So, what's the deal? What's happening in Ashland, Nebraska that makes this seem like a case?"

"Kids are disappearing."

Dean looked at his brother and said, "Care to elaborate?"

"There are kids all over town that are going missing. The police have no leads to who's doing it."

"So what? I mean, yeah, that's terrible, but it doesn't exactly seem like anything we'd look into."

"It's how the kids were taken. They were all taken from their rooms, but the windows and doors of the house were locked from the inside."

"So? Kidnappers can pick locks."

"But get this: one man, a Mr. Gaily, ran into his daughter's room after he heard her scream and sees a shadow take his daughter from her bed and vanish into thin air."

"So what're you thinking? Shtriga? Changeling?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't know, but the vanishing thing? Doesn't really seem to fit in any of those categories."

"Something new then." Dean said with a grin. "Awesome."

Dean pushed the gas pedal down, and with a loud roar that reduced to a soft purr, the sleek black 1967 Chevy Impala sped down the road toward Ashland, Nebraska.

Just as Sam had predicted, the brothers arrived in Ashland at about noon. After a quick stop at a gas station to change into their FBI getups, they were standing outside the house of Sophia Gaily, who had been stolen from her bed. Sam raised his hand and knocked.

The door opened to reveal a man in his late thirties, who looked as if he hadn't slept in days.

"Arthur Gaily? I'm Agent Stark, and this is my partner, Agent Rogers," Dean said as he and his brother held up their badges. "We would like to talk to you about Sophie."

At the mention of his daughter's name, Mr. Gaily's shoulders slumped, and he looked as if he were 70 years old. "I already spoke to the local police."

"We know, but we'd like to hear you tell it. The police often… overlook certain details of the investigation."

With a sigh, Gaily began. "It was just a normal night. I had put Sophie to bed, and I was just about to go to bed myself when I hear her scream. I walk in and see this dark, wispy figure in her room, and this, this _thing_ grabs her and just _vanishes,_ taking her with it." He runs his hands across his face, trying to wipe away the tiredness. "What could do something like that?"

"We don't know, but we're trying to find out." Sam tapped his pen against his notepad, running through the normal questions in his head. "Have you noticed anything weird lately?"

Arthur looked back and forth between Sam and Dean, confused. "What do you mean?"

"You know: strange smells, flickering lights, weird noises."

Gaily shook his head. "There was something a little strange. The floor was covered with ice when I walked in. Have you talked to that reporter, by any chance?"

Dean and Sam exchanged a look, and turned back to Gaily. "What reporter?"

"She came a day or two ago, asking the same questions as you two. She said she was a reporter from the Lincoln Gazette who was investigating the disappearances in this area. She was really young, too, like, maybe college age? It was all really strange."

"Did this reporter give you any way to contact her?"

"Yeah. She gave me her room number at a motel near here." He handed Sam a piece of paper with an address scribbled on it.

"Well, uh, thank you for your time, Mr. Gaily. We'll be in touch."

As soon as they were out the door, Dean snatched the paper at Sam's hand and looked it over. "So another hunter is in town?"

"Apparently."

"We should probably talk to this hunter and figure out what she knows."

"Well you have the room number and we do need to check into a motel for the night."

"So," Dean said as they slid into the impala. "We could just happen to stop by."

"No threats, okay, Dean? I know you want this job, but this is a hunter. We're supposed to be allies."

"Yeah, well when was the last time we were ever what we were 'supposed' to be?"

"Dean."

"Fine. No threats. Just conversation."

"Good."

They pulled up to the Prairie Motel a couple minutes later. After checking in, they stood at the door of the mystery hunter. Before knocking, Sam cast a glance a Dean that said, _Be nice, okay?_ Dean cast back a look that said, _No promises._

Sam gently knocked on the door. There was a sound of footsteps inside, followed by the sound of the door unlocking. The door opened just a crack, revealing a brown-haired girl carrying a .45. The gun quickly dropped and the door swung open as she stared at the brothers, as they stared right back.

Sam's tone was a surprised one when he exclaimed, "Tara?!"

Tara's face turned from startled to angry. "What the hell are you two doing here?"

"We're just checking out the missing children's case."

"But…how?! How are you here? At the same time as me?"

"You don't seem too happy to see us," Dean said nonchalantly.

"I wasn't planning on ever seeing you guys again! I mean, no offense, you guys are great and all, but you would think that of all the miles and all the towns in the U.S. I would never run into either of you again."

"So I'm guessing even if you did need help that you wouldn't've picked up the phone?"

"Maybe? I just…" Tara got very quiet. "I just don't really stick around. Anyone I meet I don't expect to meet again."

There was a minute of silence before Sam said, "Look, I know this is a bit of a surprise, but there are kids disappearing all over town. If you want us to leave you to your hunt, that's fine, but while we're here, we want to help. So what've you found out?"

"Oh right," Tara said, snapping out of whatever trance she had been in. She walked over to the laptop on the table and booted it up. As the laptop was loading, Dean asked the question he'd been thinking about since the door opened. "How did you pass for a newspaper reporter? You're 16."

Tara simply shrugged and grinned. "You'd be amazed at what a little make-up and a fake ID can do." The computer gave a little beep and she turned her attention to the screen. "I have a couple of ideas of what we could be dealing with." She turned the screen to the Winchesters. "I think it's a Morko."

"A what?"

"A Morko. It's a Finnish monster that steals children, and according to the lore it steals children and feeds on their life force. But get this: it leaves behind a trail of ice and snow, and it was said that it was so cold that it could freeze a campfire."

Sam leaned closer to the screen, eyes scanning over the lore. "It says here that Morkos live in cold places, or mountains. Anything like that around here?"

"I've been looking around but so far I haven't found anything. You care to help me look?"

"Yeah sure. No problem. Where are we starting?"

"I was thinking the sewers."

"Yeah, good call. What's supposed to kill this thing?"

"The lore's a little vague in that area, but silver should work just fine."

"We have to grab our stuff. We'll be back in a couple minutes."

As Sam and Dean made their way toward their motel room, they neglected to notice the shadow creeping toward Tara's motel room.

Tara was preparing her pistol when she heard a banging outside of her room. She warily crept toward the door, careful of every step, holding her pistol close. She opened the door just a crack, staring out at the world slowly drifting into night. Seeing nothing, she began to close the door, when suddenly—

 _Creak_

A noise that came from behind her.

She turned around, gun pointing to the source of the sound, only to come face to face with a cloaked figure with glowing red eyes that stared into her soul.

The figure reached for her.

She fired her gun.

But the darkness grabbed her, and with a blow to the head she slipped into unconsciousness.

Sam and Dean were in their room when they heard the shot. Grabbing their weapons, they ran to Tara's room. The entered the room just in time to see the Morko vanish into thin air, the unconscious body of Tara in its arms.

"Shit," Dean cursed, kicking the wall outside of Tara's room.

Sam took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair. "Now what?"

"We got most of the important information already. Now all we need to do is find the Ice Queen's hideout."

"We need to find the Morko, before it kills anymore kids. Tara could be next on the menu."

"You think I don't know that? Grab your gun and get in the car. We're gonna take a peek into the sewer system."

Tara woke to a small hand shaking her shoulder. Looking up, eyes trying to focus in the dark, she saw a little girl with blond hair and blue eyes staring down at her. She'd seen the picture from the police report, and she'd know that face anywhere.

"Sophie? Sophie Gaily?"

The little girl's eyes went wide. "How do you know my name?"

"I talked to your dad. I know this doesn't sound very helpful, but I'm here to save you."

Tara took in her surroundings. Instead of a sewer, as she had expected, she found that she was in a cage in what looked like a cellar. But there were no doors, and the walls looked as if they were being held up by wooden beams, and instead of a floor there was just dirt.

Okay, then. A cave, maybe an old mine.

There were small lanterns hanging from the wooden beams, and in the dim light Tara saw children, all in cages, asleep. Or rather, she hoped they were just sleeping. The alternative would be much worse.

Feeling the onset of a headache, Tara groaned and pushed herself upright. Rubbing the spot on her head where the Morko had knocked her out, she asked, "How long have I been here?"

Sophie trembled a little and answered in a shaky voice, "I-I don't know."

The little girl came closer, looking Tara over, looking terrified. "You said you were going to help," she whispered timidly. "Did you mean it? Are you really gonna stop the monster?"

Tara put her hand on the little girl's shoulder and softly replied, "I said I was going to save you, didn't I? You're going to be okay."

"How are you gonna save me if you're in here too?"

"I'm going to keep the monster from hurting you until the Winchesters get here."

Sophie looked at Tara quizzically. "Who're they?"

Tara didn't know how to tell this little girl about the things that the Winchesters fought. Those things would give this kid nightmares that would last until adulthood. Then she got an idea.

"Do you want to hear a story?"

Sophie nodded and came closer, leaning against Tara's arm. It hurt Tara's heart when she felt just how cold this six- year- old was. She shrugged off her jacket, although it was thin, and draped it over Sophie like a blanket. She began her story.

"The Winchesters are two brothers named Sam and Dean, and they are going to save you, and every other kid in here."

"How? Are they superheroes?"

"They don't have any superpowers, but they are heroes."

Sophie looked confused. "I don't get it."

"Sam and Dean have faced this kind of thing before, and they've saved a lot of people. That's their job: they protect people like you from things like _that._ "

"But they don't have any superpowers?"

"Nope, but that's what makes them heroes. It's easy for Superman to face bullets because they don't hurt him. These guys don't have any protection against the things they fight, but they do it anyway. That takes a lot of bravery."

"But the monster…it's so strong." Sophie shivered again. "I'm so cold."

"The Winchesters will stop it. They're gonna stop it and then you're going to go home. You're going to see your family again." Tara didn't know if she could keep these promises, but she couldn't tell a little girl that she may die in some dirty smelly basement. So she promised and she prayed. "You're going to be okay."

"Do you trust them?"

Tara was startled by this question, especially coming from such a small child. But she already knew the answer, and didn't miss a beat when answering, "Yes. I'd trust them with my life." She didn't know where this trust came from, but her answer seemed to calm Sophie down, and the little girl was soon fast asleep in Tara's arms.

A small smile escaped Tara's lips, despite the situation. "Sleep tight, little one," she whispered gently, so not to wake the tired child. "You're safe. Don't worry."

Tara felt an anger rise up inside of her. No child should have to feel this fear. No child should be away from their parents, their home. A dangerous cocktail of sadness and rage mixed inside of her as she made the promise that she swore she would keep, even if it killed her.

"You're going to be okay. I swear to God, Sophie. You're going to be okay."

The sewers had been a bust. Sam and Dean had searched them for hours and found neither the monster nor Tara. So now the brothers were sitting in a motel room with a map pinned to the wall, looking for any other possible leads.

Dean rubbed his eyes as Sam crossed yet another spot off the map. "Okay, so that sucked. What else we got?"

Sam ran his hand through his hair as he stared at the map. "Tara said that Morkos like the cold, and they used to live in mountains. They weren't in the sewers, so is there any other place like that around here?"

Dean snorted. "Mountains? If we were farther west, maybe, but around here? There's hardly anything that could even be classified as a hill." Dean suddenly got an idea. "What about mines?"

Sam looked at Dean and then back at the map. "Underground mines around here are rare, but yes, there are a couple." He ran his hand across his face and went to his laptop. "It would probably be abandoned, or else the kids would've been found by now. But, Dean, the problem is the teleportation thing. If the Morko really can teleport, then it doesn't have to be here. It could be literally anywhere in the world."

"One thing at a time, Sammy. We'll check the mines around here first. Maybe this thing only has a short-range ability."

"That would make things a hell of a lot easier for us."

Sam suddenly stopped typing, staring at the screen like he had found the holy grail. "I think I found it."

"Where, Sam?"

"There's an old mine, in a town called Weeping Water, only a half an hour or so from here. It shut down back in 1850."

"Grab your guns, and bring a couple flare guns too."

"What do we need those for?"

"It's an ice monster, Sammy. We're going to melt the bitch."

Tara woke again, but this time to the clanging of metal. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness, and she saw a woman, dressed in all black, staring at her with cold blue eyes. The woman's hair was the color of a raven, and her dress was long and flowing, but seemed to disappear in shadowy wisps before it touched the ground. There was something so unsettling and unnatural about the woman that Tara shivered. She shook off her fear and stared defiantly back at the woman. Making sure Sophie was still asleep, she stood and walked towards the woman, until they were face to face with only metal bars separating them.

The woman spoke, her tone icy. "Your soul smells so sweet, sweeter than the others. What makes yours so different? It doesn't matter. I am going to consume it one way or another."

"I'm guessing you're the monster that has got these kids so scared."

"Smart girl. Too smart for your own good." The woman smirked. "I believe it is going to be that trait that gets you killed. Just like the others."

"Others?"

"Hunters. You don't live as long as I have without encountering a hunter or two intent on ending me. Their smart mouths weren't so smart when they were screaming. Soon you will be just like them."

"You say that like you know me."

"I know your kind. You come in with your leather jacket and combat boots, full of cockiness, a loaded gun and a sense of invincibility. You're not immortal, you know. They thought that they could live forever, and look where that got them."

"I'm not stupid. I know how this kind of life ends."

The Morko got closer, and when she spoke even her breath was frigid. "Do you? Do you know the price you will pay?" The Morko grabbed her arm, cold clammy fingers wrapping tightly around it. "Death is on your heels, child. One day soon you will find you cannot run from it anymore. Are you prepared to face the Reaper?"

Tara stared right into the Morko's eyes. "Are you?"

The Morko threw Tara to the ground of the cage. "I would advise you to respect me, young one. It might buy you a few extra days." The Morko departed, the long train of her black dress trailing behind her.

Once the Morko was gone, Tara whispered, "A few days is all I need."

Sophie stirred, slowly awakening, and Tara was quickly by her side, holding the girl up so she would not have to be on the cold, dirty floor.

"Was that the monster?" Sophie asked timidly. "I heard voices. Is it going to hurt me again?"

Tara mustered up the best reassuring smile she could. "No Sophie, the monster isn't going to hurt you again. It's gone."

All was quiet for a moment, and then Sophie spoke. "Thank you," she whispered.

"What for?"

"For finding me. For staying with me. For keeping the monster away." Sophie looked up at her, admiration in her eyes. "You said that your friends saved people, and that made them heroes. Does that make you a hero too?"

For the first time in a while, Tara stumbled with her words. "Um…no…I don't think I'm a hero."

"But you've got to be something important!" Sophie insisted. Then her face lit up. "I know! You're a sidekick! Like Robin!"

Tara let out a small laugh, and decided to just go with it. "Okay, sure. I'm a sidekick. But you're important too, you know."

"But I'm not like you. I'm not special."

"Yes you are, Sophie. You've been very brave throughout all of this. You have potential. If push comes to shove I know I can count on you to do the right thing."

Sophie scrunched up her nose in thought. "So what does that make me?"

"I guess that makes you my secret weapon." She ruffled the kid's hair. "You're stronger than you know. I've seen a lot of things, and I know strength when I see it. "

"But I'm so small."

"But that's perfect, see? Everyone is going to underestimate you because you're small, but one day you're gonna come out of nowhere and surprise everyone."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

"So does that mean I could be like you?"

Tara froze, not knowing what to say. After a second she found her voice. "I don't think you would want this life, Sophie. I don't want you to have this life."

"Why not?"

Tara sighed. "There are reasons that I can't explain, that you wouldn't understand. You have to promise me, Sophie. Promise me you won't try to have this life. Promise me that after you get home, you won't go searching for monsters again. Promise me you'll have a nice normal life."

Sophie looked a little startled by Tara's outburst, but still said, "I promise."

"Good."

"Tara?" A new voice called. A voice that she recognized.

"Sam?"

She rushed to the bars of the cage and stared out of them, and she felt relief flood through her as she spotted the Winchesters, both navigating their way to her cage.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine. How the hell did you find this place?" When Sam opened his mouth to speak, she shook her head. "Never mind, don't answer that. We have to get the kids out of here before she comes back."

"She? The Morkos a girl?" Dean asked.

Sam hit his brothers shoulder. "Don't get any ideas."

Dean grinned. "Nah, Sammy, fucking monster girls is your department."

Sam smacked his brother upside the head.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"What do you think?"

Tara stared at Dean with an open mouth. "I can't believe you just said the F word in a room full of kids." She turned to Sophie. "Forget you ever heard that."

Sophie nodded and made the motion that said, _my lips are sealed._

There was suddenly a shrill cry that echoed through the mine. "Hunters!" the Morko screamed, enraged. "I smell more hunters! You will all pay!"

"Fu—" Dean began, but at seeing Tara's and Sam's glares, he quickly remedied to, "Fudge."

Sam searched the walls. "There's got to be a key or lever or something to get you guys out."

Another shriek could be heard, closer this time. Tara turned to the Winchesters. "Go kill her. We'll be fine."

When the brothers hesitated, she insisted. "Come on, we'll be fine. You'll be fighting the monster. What could happen?"

Dangerous words considering the famous Winchester luck, but there was no time to weigh the odds. "We'll be back," Dean promised. "Stay put."

And just like that, they were gone.

It didn't take them long to find the Morko. She was furious, in a deadly sort of way. In the dimly lit mine, the monster gave a cold smile. "Hello, hunters."

"Hello, bitch," Dean quipped.

"You're going to regret coming here. They all do."

"I think you'll find that we're not like anyone else," Sam shot back, a fearsome glint in his eyes. Any time the Winchesters hunted, it wasn't in careless anger, as the Morko killed, but in a calculated, precise style. They did their best to never get emotionally involved in a hunt, seeing as it would normally end bloodily. Although they did have their weaknesses, those weaknesses would not show in this hunt. They weren't cocky, they were professional.

Unlike the Morko, which rushed at them at an inhuman speed, full of rage. Sam was knocked off his feet by the creature, and his head smacked the ground, knocking him unconscious. Dean fired a shot, but the bullet seemed to bounce off the monster. She smirked. "You're going to have to try harder than that, hunter."

In a flash she was on him, her hands like ice as she lashed out. The air turned frigid around him, and he felt his insides go cold as she began to drain the life out of him. Her smile was icy and twisted. "How does it feel?" She whispered into his ear. "How does it feel to be beaten?" The glint in her eye was murderous. She looked Dean right in the eye, and even he, the trained hunter he was, shivered. "How does it feel to die?"

Dean looked past her and grinned. "What's so funny, hunter?" she sneered, unhappy with the reaction of her prey to certain doom.

Dean locked eyes with her once more, but this time it was the Morko who felt a deep chill in her bones. He whispered, "I hope you like fire, you frigid bitch."

The Morko turned just in time to see Sam Winchester, back on his feet and aiming a flare gun at her chest. With a smirk he pulled the trigger, and the Morko barely had time to scream before her whole body was ablaze. Her blue eyes shined brighter than before, and suddenly the whole cavern began to shake as the light spread from her eyes to the rest of her body. Her mouth, open in a perpetual scream, emitted blue light as well. Sam and Dean covered their eyes as the blinding light broke through her body and engulfed the rest of the mine. The floor trembled and a loud crashing sound could be heard. Suddenly the Morko's shrieks silenced, and she fell loosely to the floor. Her eyes, which had once held a murderous fury, were glazed over, staring into nothingness.

Sam walked over to his brother and offered him a hand to help him up, which Dean took gratefully. When back on his feet, Dean stared at the Morko's lifeless body. "Good riddance," he mumbled. Then turning to his brother, he said, "Let's go get those kids out."

They turned to the passageway where they had come from, only to find it completely blocked by rubble. The force of the Morko's death had been too much for the ancient mine to take, and the beam that had held the ceiling had collapsed, causing the cavern to cave in.

"Great," Dean grumbled. "How are we supposed to get them out now?"

Sam suddenly thought of the mine plans that he had come across. "There's a back entrance. It was too far away from the blast so it's probably still open."

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go."

Tara and the children had heard the screams and the crashing, and were well aware of their situation. "We've got to get out of here," Tara said to no one but herself. "This place isn't stable as it is; it could come crashing down at any time."

Studying the bars of the cell, she saw that the trembling had caused the door to bend slightly forward at the top. When she touched it, it moved slightly forward. Sensing an opportunity, she brought her leg up and delivered a hard kick to the door. It toppled forward, landing on the stone floor with a loud bang.

Tara climbed out of her cell, with Sophie right behind her, and began searching for ways to open the cages. There were no keys hanging on the walls, and not a lever in sight. Suddenly, a small glint of metal caught her eye. There, hidden in the crevasse of the cave wall, was a key. She smiled. "Bingo."

Grabbing the key, she unlocked all of the cages at the speed of light. "Go on," she said to the kids, pointing to the passage that wasn't blocked by rubble. "I'll be right behind you."

The kids filed out one by one, but right before Tara followed them, she grabbed a metal bar that had fallen off one of the cages. _Just in case,_ she thought, before following the children into the darkness.

The wind could be heard, signaling an exit that would soon appear. Just when Tara thought that everything was finally going to be okay, a roar echoed through the mine. "What the hell was that?"

Sophie's face went white. "That's the other one."

"There are two?!"

The roar came again, except this time it was louder and much closer than it had been before. It was coming from one of the off-branching passages they had passed, and it was coming toward them. "Run," Tara told Sophie and the other children. "If you get lost, listen for the sound of the wind and follow it." When no one moved, she yelled, "Go! I'll hold it off."

The children took off, sprinting towards freedom. Tara's heart pounded in her chest as she heard the stomping footsteps of the monster. In one hand she held the metal bar, and the other hand played with the bracelet on her wrist. The leather bracelet had been given to her a long time ago, and it came with the promise of safety and family. _It didn't work then,_ she thought to herself. _Why should it work now?_

She shook the thoughts away. _Focus. Don't let your guard down, don't panic. You've trained for this. You can do this._ They were reassuring words, but they did not help her situation. She couldn't kill it without the proper equipment. She could only keep it from getting those kids. She remembered the promise she made to Sophie and her grip on the iron bar tightened. As the angry roars came closer, she raised the bar above her head like a bat, ready to strike as soon as the monster reared its ugly head. The sounds came closer and closer and closer.

A figure with cold blue eyes appeared, and she swung.

The Winchesters met the kids halfway. Each one was shivering and shaking, either from the cold or from fear, maybe even both. What disturbed them most, however, was the person who was missing from the group.

Kneeling down, Sam looked into Sophie's eyes. "Where's Tara?"

A small tear rolled down the child's chubby cheek. "The monster was coming. She said she was going to stop it."

"That's not possible. We killed the monster."

The child spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. "You didn't kill the other one."

Both brothers exchanged wide-eye looks. "Sam, take the kids outside and wait with them. I've got a Morko to waste."

Sam looked like he wanted to argue, but there was no time. Guiding the kids to the exit, Sam shared one last glance with his brother before disappearing behind a corner.

Tara needed help, and fast. She was quickly losing the battle to the Morko, who was not only furious but incredibly strong. The iron bar had been thrown out of Tara's reach, and now it was a battle of hand-to-hand combat, which was not in Tara's favor. The Morko screamed ravenously as she lunged at the teen. "You killed my sister! You will pay for this!" Her cold hands were ripping into Tara's, causing her to scream in pain. This monster was not simply a predator, as her sister had been: she was a wounded animal, lashing out at anything and everything that came in her way.

Tara gathered her strength and administered one hard punch to the Morko's nose. The monster temporarily loosened her grip, and Tara leapt to her feet. "Where do you think you're going?!" The Morko grabbed Tara's leg and pulled the girl down. The Morko pulled her down so quickly that Tara was unable to brace her fall, and her head hit the stone floor. Sound became muffled and her vision became blurry. It was as if she was underwater, where everything was peaceful but also so empty. She was brought back to reality by a sharp pain. The pain grew to intense levels and a scream escaped her mouth. Everything was suddenly sharp and defined, and she looked down to see the Morko with an iron grip on her leg. There was a loud snap, and the pain became unbearable. Her leg was most definitely broken, yet the monster did not loosen its grip. "You are going to feel every bone in your body be crushed into dust," she hissed.

"Hey!" a voice boomed. The Morko looked up and saw a furious Dean Winchester. Many a monster had seen this rage in Dean's eyes, and none had lived to tell the tale. This alone should have scared the Morko, but it was the flare gun in his hand that sent a cold fear through the monster.

Dean smirked. "Sayonara, bitch."

The Morko went up in flames, screaming. Dean grabbed Tara and pulled her away from the shrieking beast. The blinding light came once more and Dean covered the teen's eyes. The Morko fell, and just like that, it was all over.

The cavern, however, didn't stop shaking. If there was a possibility that it would collapse before, it was certain to now. A quick glance at Tara's oddly-bent leg and bleeding forehead told Dean there was no way of her walking out. "Sorry, kid, this is gonna hurt like hell." He picked Tara up, doing his best to ignore the groans of pain escaping her mouth, and took off toward the exit. The cavern shook and began to fall apart, but daylight shown through the darkness of the mine. Dean stepped into the light just as the mine fell apart behind him.

The light was too much for Tara. It was blinding after being in such a dark place for so long, and the hard hit to the head didn't help matters much. She could hear voices, and felt the softness of the grass and warmth of the sun on her face. The voices were ones she recognized. A crying child, and two men, one of whom was on the phone with someone, and the other was asking her something. If she could just focus, then maybe she could hear what he was saying…

"Stay awake, okay? I know you're tired and you're in pain, but you have to stay awake."

Stay awake? But the sun was so warm and the grass was so soft and the light hurt so much. It was so easy to close her eyes and fall asleep…

"Stay awake!"

 _Sorry,_ she thought. The darkness overtook her and she slipped away.

When she woke again, the lights were just as bright, except it wasn't sunlight she was staring at, but the sharp glow of fluorescent lights. Through squinted eyes, she saw white walls, a white floor and a paneled ceiling. _Okay, so I'm in a hospital._

She sat up and instantly regretted it as all the blood rushed to her head. Reaching up to rub her head, she felt where stitches had obviously been recently added. As she swung her legs to get out of bed, she realized her leg felt surprisingly stiff, and looked down to see a long white cast covering her knee downward.

Suddenly she heard footsteps approaching the door. The door swung open, revealing Sam and Dean. "Sup guys. Kill anything while I was out?"

Sam smirked. "Not that we're aware."

"Good. I think. How long was I out for anyways?"

"12 hours or so," Dean replied. "We thought it was going to be a lot worse. You know you're not supposed to fall asleep with a concussion."

Tara rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders. "I'm fine, aren't I?"

Dean took a seat while Sam leaned against the wall. Both had very worried looks on their faces. "What?" Tara asked.

"You can't be this reckless. If you keep doing this, eventually it's going to be worse than a broken leg," Sam said.

Tara looked at both brothers, her eyes darting from one to the other, studying their expressions. "It's no big deal. I've gotten more severe injuries from non-supernatural things."

Sam wanted to ask what this meant, but deep down in his gut, he knew. "Still, it was a risk that you shouldn't've taken."

"But I should've risked those kids' lives? I should've risked that thing capturing more children in this town?!"

"Of course not," Dean cut in. "But you didn't have to risk yourself like that. If you had run with the kids- "

"Then they might not've made it out! I wasn't willing to take that chance. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one."

Dean rubbed a hand across his face. "Normally, I would applaud you for the Star Trek reference, but this is serious. You could've gotten killed. You're sixteen! This isn't your problem."

Tara felt a rage rise up inside of her. "Isn't my problem? It isn't _my_ problem?! When supernatural things take everything you love, take away your childhood and your family and your chance at a normal life, then it becomes your problem. This became my problem when I was _six years old_ , and I am well aware of the risks. I know that I will not make it to my twentieth birthday and I am okay with that. This is what I do. This is what I will do for the rest of my life." It got really quiet, but you could still hardly hear Tara when she added, "And I don't expect you to save me from that."

The brothers exchanged a look with each other, a look that Tara couldn't quite distinguish. Then Sam spoke up.

"Look, I know this might not be the best time, but we were thinking… maybe you should stay somewhere for awhile. Until your leg gets better."

"What do you mean?"

"You could stay at the bunker, if you wanted. You could take the spare room and we wouldn't bother you. It's the safest place on earth, and you could stay there until you got better."

Tara squinted her eyes suspiciously. "What's the catch?"

"What do you mean?"

"Every time someone offers something, it's because they want something in return. So what are the terms?"

"There are no terms. We just think that you should stay put someplace for awhile while you heal. Right now, you can't drive, and you definitely can't hunt, not safely, anyway. We just think you should stay somewhere safe. It doesn't have to be at the bunker. Just somewhere where you won't get into any trouble."

Tara could tell that the Winchesters meant her no harm, but she still kept her guard up. "Why are you being so nice to me? If this is about the whole "saving your life" thing, don't take it too seriously. I was only kidding when I said you were forever in my debt."

Sam did his best to look serious while a smile tugged the side of Dean's mouth. "It's not about that. We just want to make sure that you're okay."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"Then…okay. Sure. Why not." Tara's instincts told her that this was just for her safety, that they truly did care about her, but she still wanted to put walls up. She had been on guard against everything for so long…maybe it was time she broke a wall or two.

Changing the subject, Tara asked, "When did the doctors say I can leave?"

Dean replied, "After you woke up. You need crutches, but the hospital said they would give you a pair, free of charge." He smirked. "Apparently the people around here think you're quite the hero."

Tara groaned. "Great, a fan club. The sooner we get out of here, the better." Looking down at herself, she said, "At least I don't have to wear a freaking hospital gown."

A nurse came in with a pair of crutches. Before Tara knew it, she was in the backseat of the Impala, her duffel bag next to her, heading to a secret bunker only a few knew existed. And she had a feeling, down deep in the pit of her stomach, that this was where everything changed.

 **A/N: Sorry about the delayed chapter, guys! It's a bit longer than the others, but I'm going to try to include more and more in every chapter, as well as post more frequently. Let's see how this goes! And as always, reviews are appreciated.** **:)**


	8. Recovery

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, as much as I wish I did.**

 **A/N: this chapter is a bit longer than the others, but since I am off school for a little while, hopefully I will able to upload another chapter. Now let's get into the story!**

 **Chapter 8**

In the first few days, it was like Tara didn't know how to act around the Winchesters, and vice versa. Tara knew that the brothers wouldn't hurt her, but she couldn't immediately trust them either. That would override the protective barriers she had built over the past 10 years. They were kind enough; Dean had driven her to the bunker while Sam had driven her pickup truck. They said they wanted her to rest, but after a day of 'healing', she found she couldn't sit still. She needed to _do_ something, to help someone, anything. She decided to respect the brothers' wishes for a little while longer, but by the end of the week she was being driven up a wall.

It was 6:30 a.m. on a Monday morning, and Sam Winchester had tiredly stumbled out of bed. Dean, always the late sleeper, wouldn't likely be up until 6:45 or 7:00. So Sam trudged down the hall towards the kitchen, sleepily rubbing his eyes. Suddenly he smelled freshly brewed coffee, and he turned into the kitchen to see Tara, holding a coffee pot and cooking a pancake in a frying pan.

Sam looked at the teen, confused. "Good morning," he said, although it sounded more like a question when he said it.

Tara turned her head and grinned. "Good morning," she replied. Looking Sam up and down, she stated, "You look tired."

Sam snorted. "No kidding. What are you doing up this early?"

She poured the coffee into a coffee mug. "You and Dean get up this early. Why shouldn't I?"

"You're supposed to be taking a break."

"I did take a break. I took a break all week. Now I'm ready to get started again."

She held the coffee out to Sam, and he took it gratefully. "You didn't have to make breakfast."

She shrugged her shoulders. "It's the least I could do. Besides, who said the pancakes were for you? Not all of us can run on coffee alone for seven days straight."

Sam smiled a little and took a sip of his coffee. Footsteps could be heard echoing down the hall, and this only made Sam's smile widen. _Figures_ , he thought, shaking his head. _Dean can sleep through the apocalypse, but he gets up for food._

Sure enough, Dean came into the kitchen only a couple of seconds later. "Something smells awesome," he stated.

"Good morning to you too, sleepyhead," Sam mumbled, while still smiling.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

"That 'awesome smell' is the smell of a real breakfast," Tara said, flipping a pancake, "unlike whatever crap you have been eating."

"I didn't know we even had the stuff to make pancakes," Dean admitted. "And I didn't know you could cook."

"Well you haven't exactly given me a chance. And I had to eat something while I was hunting."

"You could've had diner food. It's some of the most underrated stuff in America."

Sam shook his head. "Don't listen to him. The kind of food he eats is diabetes waiting to happen."

"Better than whatever rabbit food you eat. I'd take a beer and a burger over your salad any day."

Tara took the pancake out of the pan and put it onto a plate. "First pancake's done. Not my best work, but it looks edible. Anyone want it?"

"I'll take it," Dean said, and he started devouring it like he hadn't eaten in weeks. Tara just stared, a little surprised, and Sam sent an apologetic smile her way. "This is really good," Dean said, except his mouth was a little full, so it sounded a bit muffled. Tara did her best to suppress a grin and turned back to the stove, pouring out the batter for another pancake.

It was surprising how quickly Tara could fall into the routine the Winchesters followed. She woke up early, and researched alongside them for hours at a time. Due to her injuries, however, they refused to let her go to bed at the same late hours. "After all," Sam had said, "you do still have a concussion. You may not act like it, but you do need to rest once in a while."

Tara didn't understand how the Winchesters could work so much and sleep so little. She could see how tired they were, yet they never took a break, not even for a second. She could see guilt hidden behind their eyes, and a deep sadness, one that cuts them to the core, and as much as she wished she could help, she knew from personal experience that there were certain things that could never heal.

 _It was dark, and Tara was running. She heard screams from behind her, and no matter how fast she ran, or how far, they followed her, like ghosts. The ground was wet, and her feet sunk deeper with every running step. The darkness encircled her, encompassed her, until she didn't know which was up or down. Despite the dark abyss, she could feel the heat of the fire at her back. The dark world was suddenly alight, and she was surrounded by flames. The air was nothing but smoke, and she choked and coughed, struggling to pull in a breath. A figure appeared, clothes stained with blood, but wearing a twisted grin all the same. Purely black eyes glinted in the firelight, creating a haunting image. When the figure spoke, it's voice was deep and acidic._

 _"It's your fault."_

 _Tara felt her insides go cold. "No, no, that's not true."_

 _"You could've saved them. You could have saved them, but you ran. Now it's time for you to burn."_

 _"No! No, please, no!" Tara cried, pleading with no one, tears streaming down her face. The floor gave out beneath her, and the flames covering the ground quickly approaching, and her final panicked scream could be heard before she hit the ground._

"NO!"

Tara sat up in bed, in a cold sweat, tears staining her cheeks. _It wasn't real, it was just a dream,_ she told herself, taking deep breaths and attempting to regain her calm. She reminded herself that the bunker was the safest place on earth, and that none of the things that once haunted her could get to her here. _They'll still find a way in,_ the voice in the back of her head told her. _When this place burns, you will have only yourself to blame._

Tara shook the voice away, and glanced at the clock on her nightstand. The soft bluish glow of the alarm clock met her eyes, and the black numbers read _4:05._ She groaned and attempted to rub the sleep out of her eyes. She knew that there was no way she was falling back asleep after the night she'd had, so she might as well do some work now and pray for sleep later. Pulling herself (and her heavy cast) out of bed, it suddenly struck her that even Sam and Dean would be asleep at this hour.

The silence in the bunker was deafening. Tara had never experienced the bunker like this, and even though she knew that the brothers were in their rooms right down the hall, she couldn't help but think of how empty it felt. There was always something going on somewhere, and Tara suddenly decided that she never wanted the bunker to look this deserted again.

Stumbling clumsily down the eerily quiet hall, she was surprised to find the library light on. Peeking inside, she saw Dean, still slumped over a book, barely awake.

"Dean?"

Dean glanced up. He looked absolutely exhausted, yet he showed no sign of surrendering to sleep. "Pulling an all-nighter?" Tara asked in a quiet voice, afraid to break the sullen silence that had enveloped the bunker.

Dean avoided the question entirely, asking her, "What are you doing up?"

Tara simply shrugged her shoulders and attempted to hide the fear on her face. "I couldn't sleep."

Dean studied her more carefully, and noticed her red-rimmed eyes, and her uneven breathing. "Were you crying?" he asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," Tara said without skipping a beat. "It was just a dream."

"Yeah, I get it. Nightmares can be pretty rough." Dean's voice was surprisingly gentle, and he showed genuine worry (although he tried to hide it) when he asked, "Anything you want to talk about?"

Tara didn't want to share any of her nightmares, not because she didn't trust the Winchesters, but because she didn't want to become even more of a burden then she already was. "If it's all the same to you, I would rather not."

Dean nodded, understanding. He was still uneasy, however. By the looks of it, Tara's nightmare had been severe, and he knew what hell a nightmare could be. He'd experienced plenty of nightmares, some of them more terrifying than their day-to-day lives, and he knew what kind of an effect they could have on someone. It was worrisome to think that this teen, this _kid_ , had gone through something so terrible that it would continue to haunt her in her dreams. He made a mental note to find out what had happened, but tonight was not the night for that.

"I guess I couldn't convince you to go to bed?"

"Not tonight, not for a million dollars."

"You know, I was going to do some target practice. You wanna take a couple shots?"

"Won't that wake Sam up?"

"Sam? Nah, he'll be fine. The shooting range is pretty much soundproof and it's not near any of the bedrooms."

Tara snorted. "What's so funny?" Dean asked.

"I didn't even know you had a shooting range."

Dean chuckled. "Come on, let's go."

"Give me a little while. This cement that covers my leg makes walking a bit difficult."

Once at the shooting range, Dean snagged a handgun off of the wall. Handing the gun to Tara, he said, "Show me what you got."

Tara inspected the gun in her hands, and then looked at Dean. "Is this a test?"

"No, of course not. It's not like I'm going to kick you out if you miss. Just take a shot." Dean didn't expect much; this kid was a hunter, but she was still a kid. It was dangerous for anyone out there, let alone a teen. He just wanted to make sure that, if she insisted on continuing to do this, she could at least be prepared.

Tara shrugged her shoulders. "Okay, have it your way." She raised the gun with both hands and fired. The bullet hit dead center of the target's forehead.

Dean was doing his best not to seem surprised. Apparently, he didn't do it very well. Tara spotted the look on Dean's face, and tried not to laugh. "News flash: I'm a hunter. I know how to handle a gun."

She raised the gun again, this time with one hand, and fired. Dead center. With a glance back at Dean, she switched hands. She raised the gun, fired, and hit the target right in the middle of the forehead.

"Okay, okay, I get it, you know what you're doing."

"I'm sorry, what?" Tara turned her head to look at Dean, but the raised gun stayed in place. Keeping her head turned, she fired the gun. The bullet hit dead center.

"Now you're just showing off."

"Well, duh. It's not every day you get to prove a Winchester wrong."

"How did you get so good, anyway? I thought you said you've only been hunting for two years."

She finally lowered the gun. "If I was going to do this, I was going to do it right. Nothing half-assed." Tara shook her head and put the gun down on a table. "I wasn't about to die on my first hunt. So I studied. I practiced until I couldn't get anything wrong."

"Where did you get a gun? Isn't it illegal to have a gun if you're under 18?"

Tara snorted. "A lot of the stuff we do is illegal. The gun was just a matter of finding the right person, a person who just happened to be able to overlook a fake ID. After that, all I had to do was practice."

Dean rubbed his face. "You worry me, kid."

"Like you didn't know how to fire a gun when you were my age."

 _That's what worries me,_ Dean thought to himself. The last thing he wanted was another kid to have his childhood.

Tara handed the gun towards Dean, looking at him expectantly. "What's this for?"

"I took my shots. Now it's your turn."

Dean smirked. "No problem." He took the gun and rapid fired bullets into the target's head.

"Not bad."

"Not bad? That was awesome."

"What the hell?!"

Tara and Dean turned around to see a very tired Sam looking at them with annoyance. "It is _four in the fucking morning_."

Dean looked startled. He was normally the one who cursed. Tara looked just as shocked as Dean. "I thought you said this wouldn't wake him up?"

"I might have slightly exaggerated how soundproof this place is."

"Is it even soundproof?"

"Apparently not."

Sam still looked pissed as hell, staring daggers at the two of them. "What are you two even doing up this early?"

Dean shrugged, looking sheepish but also slightly smug. "Technically I never went to bed."

"That doesn't even matter," Tara pointed out.

Sam, obviously still tired and confused, rubbed his eyes. "Okay, fine. Tara, what were you doing up this early?"

Tara seemed to shrink into her shell. "Just a bad dream. Not important."

A moment of awkward silence ensued, before Tara broke it. "I… I'm gonna take another shot at sleeping. Sorry for waking you up, Sam. It won't happen again."

She walked out of the shooting range with her head hung low.

"What happened, Dean?" Sam asked, no longer angry but instead concerned. "What's wrong with her?"

"Every hunter has a backstory."

"But she's just a kid."

"We were kids once too, Sammy."

The words, although simple, made a point that Sam couldn't possibly argue with. One night was all it took. One night to forever alter their futures and give them burdens to carry for the rest of their lives. They had no time to be kids. That was one of the main reasons they made the sacrifices they made. If they could stop one kid from having their childhood, it was a job well done.

The Winchesters couldn't give Tara a normal life, but maybe they could give her a piece of it.

Sam looked at his brother, a knowing look on his face. "I have an idea."

Tara came to back to the library two hours later, fully dressed, and hair wet from a shower. She entered the library to see Sam and Dean hunched over a phone on speaker. Seeing Tara, Sam said into the phone, "Okay, talk to you later. Thanks." He hung up and both brothers turned to Tara. She looked at them cautiously. "What's going on, guys?"

"Have a seat," Dean said, gesturing to a chair. Tara hobbled over, leaning her crutches against the table.

"That was our friend Jody," Sam said. "She's a hunter, and she lives up North, in Oregon. We asked her if she would like to take you in."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No, you've been great," Dean assured her. "Jody has two other girls, Alex and Claire, about your age. They've been through some…bad times…too. You could go to high school, have a normal life, if you wanted to."

"Not for forever, just until you get better," Sam explained. "The bunker is amazing, but you can't live a normal life here. Nothing near here is anything close to normal. This life is tiring and it's hard, and the kind of weight you start to carry hurts like hell. We don't want you to have that kind of life. It's an offer, a new beginning, if you want it."

For a second, Tara was speechless. Then she found her voice. "I-I'm sorry. Really, I am, but I can't take you up on that offer. It's really nice of you to offer, and it's more than I can ask for, but I can't. If you want me to move out, I will, you don't have to sugarcoat it. It's okay, really, it is."

"No, we don't want you to move out, it's just— "

"Just what?"

"This life takes a toll on you," Dean said, looking the teen straight in the eye. "There's only one way this ends, and it's never pretty. We want to give you a chance to get out."

Tara looked back and forth between Sam and Dean, reading their expressions. Instead of the annoyance she was expecting, she saw only sincere, caring looks. She was thrown for a bit of a loop.

"I know the cost," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I gave up on a normal life a long time ago. There's no going back for me."

"You could. We want you too."

"Yeah, but I don't want a normal life." Her voice was gaining confidence. "I lost everything I loved and cared about. I was tossed around from foster homes to group homes to orphanages, looking for a normal life, and none of them worked out. After what happened to my family, my home, I just can't go back and pretend like it never happened. I've seen too much, and I can't just ignore it. I know I'm not going to live long. I know my abilities won't keep me alive forever. But who cares? I get to help people and make a difference; I've done more good in two years of hunting than some people have done in their whole lives." She took a deep breath. "Normal isn't an option anymore. I'm done trying to chase an apple-pie life. I've made my choice, and this is it. There's nothing else for me to do but hunt, so that's what I'm going to do. I'm sorry if that worries you, but I can't—I won't—go back."

As Sam and Dean exchanged surprised looks, Tara's eyes remained fixed on her fidgeting hands. She didn't raise her head, even when Sam said, "We don't want to force you into anything. You said no, and we can respect that."

The last part finally caused Tara to look up, looking Sam right in the eyes. It was the first time that she could remember where someone had actually listened to what she said. Even when she went hunting, everything she said was normally disregarded. _Shut up, kid, the grown-ups are talking._ She knew that she wasn't an adult, and that her judgement could be questionable at times, but she hated when the other hunters treated her like an outsider and a freak.

"You guys aren't like most other hunters, are you?"

Dean snorted. "No kidding. How many other hunters have died more than once?"

A smile quirked the side of Tara's mouth. "Thanks for the offer, guys, but it wouldn't have worked out anyway."

"And why's that?"

Tara's half-smile broke into a pride-filled grin. "Because I already graduated high school."

Dean looked more than a little bewildered while Sam looked impressed. "Wait, hold on," Dean said, putting his hands in the air. "You graduated high school when you were fourteen? How?!"

Tara simply shrugged, grin remaining in place. "I was a bit ahead of everyone else. Reading was big in my family. I learned to read by the time I was 3, and I read everything. When the teachers found out what I could do, and what I had learned, they let me skip a couple grades."

"So you're telling me," Dean said, still in a state of disbelief, "that because you read a lot you got to graduate high school when most would be starting it?"

Tara blushed. "Pretty much."

"Kid," Dean said with a smile filled with admiration, "you're awesome."

Tara felt her face go hot, and she knew she was probably as red as a firetruck. She wasn't used to getting compliments, and although she felt like she should say something, she was speechless.

Dean shot the teen a reassuring smile when he saw her obvious nervousness and embarrassment. "I guess I'd better call Jody and tell her that she's not going to have another houseguest." He dialed a number and quietly left the room to talk to Jody.

"You're a surprising kid, you know that?" Sam commented.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"So far, I'd say it's worked in your favor." Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "You understand why we wanted you to go, right? We weren't trying to chase you out or anything."

"Yeah, I think I get it. A hunter's life isn't the prettiest."

Sam snorted. "That's the understatement of the century." His face turned serious, and his eyes held pain within them. "I get why you want to do this, I really do, but promise me something."

The tone to his voice was so unlike _Sam_ that for a second, Tara felt scared. "What is it?"

"Promise me that if things get too dangerous-if it's a last-stand, guns blazing kind of thing—promise me that you'll run."

Tara's face went white. "What?"

"If something happens, if you have the chance, I want you to get out as fast as you can. Run and don't look back."

"You know I can't promise that."

Sam rubbed his hand across his eyes. "Yeah, I know. It's just… me and my brother don't want to see you get hurt. Some pretty ugly stuff tends to happen in this line of work."

He wasn't telling her something. She could tell. The pain and loss he tried to hide behind his eyes flashed like a neon sign; you'd have to be blind not to see it. Her own words flashed across her head, _every hunter has their backstory._ Tara was beginning to suspect that there was more to the Winchesters' backstory than the legends she had heard. _No shit, Sherlock,_ she thought to herself. _Real life heroes are never like their stories._

"You don't have to tell me about the ugly stuff. I've seen a lot of it."

The hardened look that appeared on Sam's face surprised her. The words he spoke had a darkened tone that she had never heard him use. "Not all of it. You don't want to see all of it."

Sam, through his dark reflection, suddenly realized how scared Tara looked. _Good job, Sam_ , he thought to himself. _Now you've terrified the kid._

Dean broke the tension in the room when he came through the door. "Jody's been told. Although she is a little mad at you, Tara. She says she had a room all prepared."

Tara shrugged her shoulders. "I would cover all costs, except I'm a teenager and have no money."

The smirk fell from Dean's face. "She also says she has a hunt."

Sam and Dean shared a glance, and Tara knew exactly what was up. "Guys, come on, really?" She laughed a little bit.

"We don't have to go. We can find someone else— "

"No, you guys should go. You've been looking for something like this for weeks."

"But you'll be here alone— "

"In the safest place on earth!" Tara shook her head, an amused smile spreading across her face. "You can't take me with you, because I'll be a liability, but you can hunt on your own." When she saw the doubting glances on both faces, she added, "Guys I'll be safer here than on any hunt I've ever been on. I've got plenty of food, water, and a library to die for. I'll be fine."

"I guess that settles it then," Dean said. "I'll go pack."

Sam watched his brother leave, then turned back to Tara. "You sure you're okay with this?"

Tara rolled her eyes. "Yes, Sam, I'm sure."

"Absolutely sure?"

"Go pack, dumbass."

It took less than 20 minutes for the boys to pack for the hunt. As they walked towards the exit, Dean was giving Tara the ground rules.

"No parties, and I mean it. This is a secret base, emphasis on secret."

"Yeah, like I have friends to invite."

"The hunt shouldn't take more than a few days. We'll call you every day to check up on you. If we miss a call, call Jody or Garth. No matter what happens, do _not_ come after us. Got it?"

"Yeah, I got it."

"There's food in the fridge and extra money if you run out." Turning to Sam, he asked, "Ready to go?"

"I think so." To Tara, he said, "Stay out of trouble while we're gone."

Tara gave a small smile. "I'll do my best."

The brothers walked up the stairs towards the door. Dean turned and gave a wave. "Catch ya later, kid."

Tara gave a half-salute. Sam cast one last worried glance in Tara's direction, then shook his head, as if to shake the fearful thoughts out of his mind. The bang of the shutting door echoed through the halls of the bunker.

Tara turned from the bottom of the staircase where she had been standing, gazing out at the expanse of books on the shelves in the now-deserted library. All of them held secrets she couldn't even begin to imagine.

With a smirk, she thought aloud, "I'd better get started."


	9. Of Demons and Werewolves

Chapter 9

The hunt was simple enough. A middle-aged man had been attacked on a late night, and was found with his heart missing. The night he was attacked just happened to fall on a full moon. It was a textbook werewolf case. All they had to do was find out where.

Dean rubbed his eyes. "How hard is it to find a couple of second-rate werewolves?"

"Apparently harder than we thought."

"No shit. Aren't they normally in abandoned farms or warehouses?"

"There are dozens of farms here that were abandoned during the Great Depression. We look at too many and the werewolves will get suspicious and high-tail it out of here."

"It's a small town. There has to be someone who saw something."

Sam rolled his eyes. "The streets are deserted by nine. This guy chose the wrong town to go late-night jogging."

"Okay, then, process of elimination."

Sam turned back to look at the map on the wall. "Well, these have been torn down for materials, mostly. So there wouldn't be a barn or anything to hide them."

"It's a start," Dean acknowledged, looking at the map. Pointing to another area, he said, "These are near a military base. It's a small outpost, but that means—"

"Cameras," Sam finished for him, taking a marker and crossing off the area. "This one is for sale, so that means people are going to be in and out all the time. Same thing goes for this one that's under construction."

"So that leaves…" Dean leaned in to read the name, "Blue Moon Pastures." He let out a chuckle at the irony of it. Sam tried not to look amused.

"Hey Annie, get your gun." Dean said with a smirk. "We've got some werewolves to waste."

"For the last time, I'm not a girl."

"Whatever you say, Samantha. Speaking of girls, we should give Tara a call. You know, just in case."

The hunt was supposed to be easy, but the Winchesters had learned to never underestimate the power of an enemy. The easiest hunt could still be your last; the "just in case" rule was the unspoken acknowledgement that any goodbye could be the last.

They were in the car when Tara picked up the phone.

 _"_ _Island of Misfit Toys, how can I direct your call?"_

Sam and Dean each smiled a little to themselves as they heard the words. "Have you been answering the phone like that all day?" Sam asked.

 _"_ _Yeah, like anybody else calls the bunker. It's been three days. I got bored."_

"We'll be back soon."

 _"_ _Yeah, you'd better be. I'm not your secretary, you know."_

"Tara, we don't have a landline. We're calling your cell. You're hardly a secretary."

 _"_ _At least you're making use of my cell plan. Your business is appreciated. Remind me to send you guys a fruit basket or something."_

Dean broke in. "How you doing, kid?"

" _I'm pretty sure I should be asking you that. You guys are the ones hunting."_

Dean rolled his eyes. "We're okay. But seriously, how are you?"

" _I've told you guys, I'm fine. Nothing has changed since when you called yesterday. Except that I got a little more bored."_

"How's research coming?"

 _"_ _Nothing so far. I've barely scratched the surface of the library, though. Jesus, how many books do you have in this place?"_

"It's not like we've counted."

 _"_ _Well, I'm starting. Remember: "Of Gods, Demigods and Angels" is number 1. I'm going to write that down somewhere."_

The Impala stopped on the country road, a half mile from where the werewolves were hiding. "Listen, Tara, we've got to go. We're here," Sam said.

" _Okay. Talk to you later. Oh, and Sam?"_

"Yeah?"

 _"_ _Make sure you and Dean kick some werewolf ass."_

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam could see Dean's smirk. He shook his head and smiled. "Will do. Talk to you later, kid."

" _See ya."_

The phone call ended with a click. The brothers opened the car's doors simultaneously, a habit that they had unknowingly picked up through years of hunting. Dean popped the trunk, and he and Sam grabbed their guns, which were loaded with silver. "Come on, Sammy," Dean said, cocking his gun. "We've got some werewolves to waste."

The brothers started their stealthy trek down the dusty dirt road. They were almost there when they heard inhuman screams. They sounded like howls.

Sam and Dean ducked behind a patch of trees. "What the hell is that?" Sam whispered, his gun cocked at his side.

Before Dean had a chance to answer, a werewolf burst out of the warehouse and started bolting towards the safety of the woods. A figure stepped through the door from which the werewolf had come, a reached out its hand, as if beckoning the werewolf toward it. The werewolf was jerked backwards, back towards the creature in the dooring, screaming for mercy. The figure reached out with a silver knife, and made a clean stab through the werewolf's heart before the monster had even hit the ground. The figure wore a disturbing smile as it turned back to the door and reentered the warehouse.

"Was that…" Dean stuttered, for a moment faltering as he processed what he had seen, "was that a demon?"

Sam frowned, also confused. "I think so. But why would it be here? Why kill werewolves?"

Dean cocked his gun. "I say we find out."

"Dean, there are only silver bullets in these guns. They're worthless against demons."

Dean pulled out a bullet and his pocket knife, and said with a smirk, "Not if you carve a devil's trap in them."

The demon eyed the dead werewolves, a twisted smile forming across his face. Oh, how he'd enjoyed making them bleed. Although, he thought, it would've been better if they had not already been tainted. He loved watching the innocent bleed. However, orders were orders, and he wasn't complaining.

The door slammed open behind him, and the demon turned, coming face to face with Dean Winchester. The demon's smile grew. "Look who it is: one third of the Three Stooges. Well, I guess there are only two stooges now, seeing as your angel friend is out of commission."

Dean's eyes narrowed, and the demon laughed. "What, does that make you uncomfortable? Wings isn't doing so hot, you know. Having the true King of Hell ride around with you tends to do that."

Dean was fuming, but he held his stoic gaze. "You are either very brave or very stupid."

"And why is that?"

"You know what happens to anyone that messes with us. You're gonna be begging us to let you die."

"Us? Looks like there's only one of you."

"And that's another reason why you're stupid." A gun shot sounded, the bullet piercing the back of the demon's skull. The demon turned his head to see Sam, wearing a smirk. "You forgot to check the back door."

The demon tried to move, but found itself locked in place. "You're not going anywhere, you son of a bitch," Dean remarked. "Sam, go get the car."

Sam looked surprised. "You're actually going to let me drive?"

Dean seemed to rethink his previous idea. "Ok, I'll go get the car. But he makes a move, and you shoot him again."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I've got it under control, Dean. Just go get the car."

Dean cast one last glare at the demon before disappearing through the door.

Sam's eyes stayed locked on the demon. "Why, would you look at that," the demon said with a twisted grin. "It's just you and me, and you can't take your eyes off of me. Scared, Sammy?"

"You don't get to call me that. You think I'm scared of you? I've been to hell and back and put your 'Lord of Hell' back in his cage. Did you really think I would be scared of a second-rate henchman like you?"

The demon pretended to be hurt. "Ouch, that really hurt," it said, gripping its chest. But the evil grin soon returned. "I assure you, Sam, I am no second-rate henchman. You're going to wish you had killed me when you had the chance."

Sam smirked, eyes locked with the demon. In a voice no louder than a whisper, but powerful all the same, Sam snarled, "You're going to wish you were dead."

The demon returned Sam's gaze. "If you want information, you'll never get any out of me."

The corner of Sam's mouth quirked up, but his eyes were cold and uncaring when he growled, "We'll see about that."

The door opened back up, and Dean stood in the doorway, heavily-warded handcuffs in hand. "Let's go, black eyes. Me and my brother here have some questions to ask you."

The handcuffs were slapped on the demon's wrist, and with Dean on one side and Sam on the other, they dragged the demon to the Impala. Dean forced the demon into the trunk with a shove. "Have a nice rest, sleeping beauty, cause things are gonna get a whole lot worse when you wake up."

The trunk slammed shut, leaving the demon in complete darkness.

Sam took out his phone and began to dial as the brothers got back in the car.

"Who are you calling?" Dean asked, turning the key in the ignition and causing the car to roar to life.

"Tara. If we're bringing home a demon, I want her to be ready."

Dean shrugged his shoulders in agreement, and pushed his foot to the pedal, speeding the car down the road, towards the bunker.

The phone stopped ringing, and a voice could be heard on the other line. " _Sam? You guys done already?"_

"Not exactly. We ran into a bit of an…issue."

Tara seemed hesitant. _"_ _What kind of issue?"_

"The werewolves were already dead— "

 _"_ _I don't see how that's a problem."_

"—but a demon was the thing that killed them."

 _"_ _Oh,"_ Tara remarked. _"_ _Yeah, I can see how that's an issue. Are you guys ok?"_

"We're fine, but we have the demon with us. We're coming back to the bunker to, uh, get some answers."

 _"_ _You can say interrogate, you know. I'm not a dumbass. I know how hunters 'get answers'."_

Sam saw Dean's amused half-smile, but chose to ignore it. "Okay, yes, we are interrogating a demon, but we need you to be ready for anything. Get an angel blade; you need to be armed just in case."

 _"_ _But you guys have got this under control, right?"_

"Don't worry, we're not going to let anything happen to you."

In the bunker, Tara smiled sadly. It was a sincere promise, but one she knew Sam wouldn't be able to keep. Hunters died young, and Tara knew she would be no different. She just hoped that when she did go, they wouldn't have to watch. She knew all too well how much that hurt.

Back in the car, Sam added on to his previous thought. "Tara, can you do one more thing for me?"

 _"_ _Sure, what is it?"_

"Can you get our dungeon ready for the demon?"

 _"_ _Your_ what _?!"_

"Our dungeon. It's behind the filing cabinets in the 2nd records room."

" _Let me get this straight: I've been staying with you guys for over a month and you're just now telling me that you have a secret room that's a fucking PRISON?!"_

Sam flinched at the voice coming through the phone while Dean was trying not to smile. "Is that a problem?"

 _"_ _That's awesome! I'll go get the room ready, if I can find it. See you guys soon."_

"See ya."

Two hours later, the boys pulled up to the bunker. Dean got the demon out of the trunk while Sam opened the bunker door.

Tara was standing in the library. She gave him a friendly smile, secretly relieved to have the brothers back in the bunker. "Hey, Sam. Long time no see."

Sam returned her smile. "We were only gone three days."

"And yet you still managed to find trouble. It's like you guys have neon signs on your backs."

Sam's smile slipped a little, but stayed all the same. "You know, I think we probably do. Got your knife?"

She picked the blade off of the table. "It's ready to go. And I made a slight change for, uh, mobility." Tara gestured to her leg, which was now cast-free.

"You took your cast off? I thought you still had a couple days to go."

"It's fine, and besides, the thing was wearing me down. It's like wearing a cement boot."

The door slammed open and Dean marched the demon down the stairs. Tara's smile fell and her face turned white as a sheet as she speechlessly watched the demon descend the staircase and walk towards her. She stumbled backward a little bit, backing into the table.

Sam looked at her, concerned. "Hey, are you okay?"

It was as if Tara had not even heard the question. Her eyes were wide and locked on the demon. "You," she breathed. "I know you."

The demon, who had previously been staring at the ground, looked up. As soon as he saw her, his face twisted into a grin.

That was all it took. Before either brother had a chance to move, Tara's fist was flying through the air, connecting with the demon's face. "You were there!" she cried furiously. "I saw you there! I remember you!" The hits came in rapid fire, bloodying her knuckles, but Tara didn't seem to notice.

Tara grabbed the angel blade on the table, in a rage of which Sam and Dean had never seen from her before. Before she could finish the demon, Sam grabbed her arms. She struggled and twisted to get out of Sam's grip. "Let me go!"

"Hey, hey, calm down. What's wrong?"

"He was there!" She cried, still trying to get free. "He was there the night I lost everything. He killed my family and he made me watch them burn."

The blade dropped limply to the floor. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, the rage replaced with a deep heartache. "He was there," she whimpered. "He was there."

Dean's hold tightened on the demon, digging his fingernails into the monster's arm. _We may need answers from you now,_ he thought, _but right after we're done, I'm going to make sure that you die as painfully as possible._

Sam also looked furious, but none of that was reflected when he said to Tara, "Hey, let's get out of here, okay? Let's go clean up. You hurt your knuckles pretty bad."

"But—" Tara began, and for the first time in the time that the boys had known her, she actually looked like a _kid._ Not a seasoned, snarky hunter, but a girl who just wanted her family back.

"It's okay, he's not going to hurt you," Sam reassured. "Come on. It's okay."

Sam led Tara, who looked more than a little bit shaken, out of the room. As soon as they were gone, Dean pushed the demon up against the wall, and held the angel blade right to the demon's throat. "Listen close, you son of a bitch. You hurt her, you talk to her, you even _think_ about her, and I will cut you into tiny pieces with this blade. I will carve your ass up into so many pieces that Lucifer himself wouldn't be able to find all of you. Do I make myself clear?"

The demon was no longer smiling. "Crystal clear."

"Good. If you're lucky, and you play nice, maybe we'll be merciful and make your death only a day long."

Dean dragged the demon off of the wall and marched him towards the dungeon.

Meanwhile, Sam was wrapping Tara's bloodied knuckles in silence. Tara's eyes did not stray from the floor. Finally, Sam spoke. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she said, although the way her voice broke said otherwise. She cleared her throat and spoke again, "Sorry for the outburst back there."

"You don't have to be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I shouldn't have made a scene like that."

"You have every right to be infuriated. It's okay." Tara opened her mouth to disagree, but closed it when Sam held up his hand. "No, seriously, it's fine. I've been in your shoes, and I know that there are things that never stop hurting, and you want to make those who hurt you to feel your pain. What that son of a bitch did is unforgivable, and I promise that as soon as we get everything we need from it that it will die in whatever way you choose."

Tara sat back, leaning against the headrest of her bed. "I hate that _thing_ for what it did to my family, but I hate what it does to me. It turns me into something that I'm not." She got very quiet, and said in a voice no louder than a whisper, "I turn into someone who wants nothing more than to make that motherfucker bleed."

She turned to Sam, and asked, "How do you know if you're the good guy? I mean, there's no black and white in this business. There are so many gray areas… how do you know that you're not becoming the monster?"

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, wondering the same thing. "I guess you should trust your instincts, and the people who care about you. They can make the biggest differences between monsters and men."

"Sammy," a voice called. Sam turned to see Dean standing in the doorway. Dean gestured with his head. "It's time."

"Right." Turning back to Tara, Sam said, "You shouldn't go into the dungeon for a while." Torture wasn't a sight that he wanted the teen to see, regardless of her background with the demon. Besides, he wasn't sure that the kid could emotionally handle seeing the demon again.

"Yeah, okay."

With one last reassuring smile, the brothers left, leaving Tara with her thoughts.

All the demon saw was darkness, a pitch black that consumed everything. Footsteps echoed through the seemingly hollow hallways, and suddenly the demon was confronted by a single, blinding light. When black eyes adjusted, they focused upon the cold, cruel eyes of Dean Winchester. He was crouched over, looking the demon right in the eyes, while Sam was leaning against a table in the corner. An unfeeling smile quirked the side of Dean's mouth. "We're going to find exactly what we're looking for, one way or another." Dean slid his finger along the dull side of the blade he was holding. "So, either you tell us what we need, or you enter a world of pain."

The demon gave a short cackled, and then looked past Dean, right at Sam. "I'm guessing you're the good cop in scenario?"

Sam shook his head, looking completely soulless except for his eyes, which contain a terrifying fire inside of them. It was the look of a hardened hunter, an assassin, which the demon found quite disturbing, if not altogether terrifying. When Sam spoke, his voice wasn't warm, but instead monotone, calculated, as if any compassion that had once been there had been discarded long ago. Both Dean and Sam looked as if they had been completely stripped of their humanity, like it was a mask to put on and off. The real question was which was the mask: the murderer or the man?

Sam looked the demon straight in the eyes, and straightened to his full height, seemingly causing the demon to shrink. "There is no good cop in this scenario," Sam said menacingly. "There's a bad cop and a worse cop. If you think I'm bad then just wait until you meet my brother. So, like we said, there are two options: tell us now, and die quick, or tell us later, after we've broken every bone in your pathetic body. Which will it be?"

The demon spit in Dean's eye, who just happened to be the closest. Dean said nothing, but simply removed the spit with one clean swipe of his finger. The knife edged to the side of the demon's face, merely centimeters away from touching the skin. Dean pushed harder, and the blade penetrated the demon's skin, not yet breaking the skin but so close. Dean smiled coldly. "Okay then," Dean snarled. "The hard way it is."

The knife buried deep into the demon's skin, and the screams echoed through the silent halls of the bunker.

The screams lasted hours. They would fade, sometimes even silence, for a couple of minutes to an hour, then come back with full intensity. Sometimes it would be both brothers, or just one, in the room with the demon. Tara saw the brothers once in a while, as they passed in the hallways, grabbing "tools" that they needed, but she nor they stopped to say hello. For the most part, Tara stayed in her room, doors closed with music blaring through headphones, and tried to block out the noise. The times that she left her room were few and far between; she would peek out of her room, and as quiet as a mouse would get what she needed, scurrying back to her room as quickly as possible. Once, after a trip to the library, she paused in the middle of the suddenly silent hallway, listening. A sudden, terrible curiosity enveloped her, and she crept toward the archive room and the dungeon. She heard familiar voices, and she listened to what they had to say.

 _I'm not going to say this again,_ a deep voice said menacingly. Definitely Dean. _You tell us what we need to know, or we just keep going. Why were you collecting werewolf blood?_

 _To make a nice werewolf stew._ Tara could hear the sneer in the demon's voice, but whatever smugness it possessed was soon wiped away, as the sudden crack of knuckles hitting bone echoed.

 _Why were you there?_ This voice was quiet, yet forceful and slightly terrifying. Sam.

 _Who cares? Soon my lord will come for me and you and that teenage bitch that's hanging around will die, so why tell you?_

Another crack, this one harder than before, and a small whimper of pain slipped through the demon's lips. _Leave her out of this._

 _Why are you defending that thing? She's not worth the effort._

Tara sucked in a breath, a tightness suddenly engulfing her lungs. Why was it suddenly so hard to breathe?

Dean's voice slipped through the cracks of the closed door. _I'd stop talking if I were you._

 _Why? You fond of that kid? She kinda reminds me of someone… you know, Whatshisface."_ The demon snapped as if remembering something important. _Ah right. That kid, Kevin. She's about his age, right? I wonder if she'll die at the ripe old age of 19, too._

 _Shut up!_

 _Or what about that other girl, Charlie? What a sweetheart. Too bad she had to die bloody. I wonder how much blood Tara is going to be lying in when you find her. If it's done my way, that pretty little face is going to be unrecognizable._

 _I said SHUT THE FUCK UP!_

The demon was suddenly quiet, but was not finished. In a voice that had Tara straining to hear, it said, _Tell the kid what happened to your other friends, and see how fast she runs._

 _You hurt her and—_

 _You'll kill me, I know. But just remember, when she does die horribly, beaten and bloody, I wasn't the one that killed her. Look in the mirror and you'll find your murderers._

Tara's curiosity had officially gone sour, and she no longer wanted to listen to a single thing the demon had to say. She turned and took off down the hallway, desperate to get away from the things that haunted her.

She didn't come out of her room for the rest of the day. When Sam and Dean finally shut the door of the dungeon for the night, she didn't say a single thing about what she'd heard. Instead she asked, "How did it go?"

Sam let out a big sigh and rubbed his face. "About as well as you'd imagine. He really didn't give anything away." Then Sam let out a small smile. "We did, however, get his name: Belial."

"That was a long time for just a name."

Sam shrugged. "Like I said, he wasn't revealing much."

In all honesty, both Sam and Dean were extremely frustrated with the lack of progress they had made on the demon. They knew, however, that nothing was unbreakable, and it was only a matter of time before the demon was completely at their mercy.

Steering the conversation away from Belial, Dean asked Tara, "So what did you do today?"

"Oh, you know, the normal stuff. Research, some weapons training, that's about it." She eyed the two of them and noticed how tired and depressed they looked. It had definitely been a long week, and the emergence of this demon probably signaled the start of Lucifer's apocalyptic scheme, yet another source of stress to add on top of the always-increasing pile. Tara suddenly remembered something that could cheer them up.

"I'll be right back," she said, suddenly turning and sprinting down the hallway towards her room. Sam and Dean looked confused, but didn't follow her, instead plopping down in the chairs in the library. Tara returned less than a minute later, holding a USB in her hand.

She reached out her hand, giving the USB to Sam before sliding into a chair herself. At Sam's look of confusion, she nodded at the laptop next to Sam on the table. "Go on. Plug it in."

Sam booted the laptop and plugged in the USB, a curious Dean peeking over his shoulder and Tara looking very excited. Almost immediately, the screen was flooded with images and book pages. Quickly scanning them, Sam and Dean discovered that they all stated something about monsters and how to defeat them. Sam looked over at Tara. "What is this?"

Tara was almost hyper as she explained, "While you were on your hunt, I scanned a couple of the books and made them into digital copies. I know that you guys have to come to the bunker to do a lot of the research, so I thought, 'Why not make the books portable?' It's like having a pocket-sized bunker!"

When the boys were still quiet, Tara said, "It's easier to find the information too. I set it up with special word recognition. So if you typed in 'demon', for example, you'd be able to find all the documents with that topic without having to flip through hundreds of books." She rubbed the back of her neck. "Of course, it isn't done yet. I only had time to scan a couple books, and the encryption software isn't done yet…"

Dean held up his hand, signaling for her to stop. "Wait a minute. Encryption software?"

"Yeah. I know that this falling into the wrong hands could literally be the worst thing to happen to humanity, so I'm working on encryption software to lock anyone out who doesn't know the codes. Too many missed passwords and the whole thing erases. I did finish the warding, though, so there's not a monster alive that could touch this drive without getting the ass-beating of a lifetime."

"This is…" Sam was speechless. For a second Tara began to worry that she had overstepped her bounds. But when Sam finished, her worries were eased. "This is amazing. Thank you."

Dean put a hand on her shoulder. "Impressive, kid."

Tara was blushing, as red as a tomato. She was surprised at how proud she felt; she wasn't used to feeling useful.

Dean gave her shoulder a gentle pat and said, "I think it's time to hit the hay, kiddo. It's almost one in the morning."

"Oh…yeah," Tara pulled herself out of her haze and began to walk to her room. "Goodnight!" she yelled behind her, feeling pleased when she heard a reply. Screw Belial; she _was_ worth something after all.

Back in the library, Sam and Dean were still looking through the contents of the flash drive. Sam was geeking out. "There are so many possibilities for this," he rambled. "No more winging it on hunts, no more late nights of research on the road. This is awesome."

Dean let out a short laugh. "Calm down, nerd. It's a flash drive. It's not like you've ever seen one before."

A singsong male voice rang down the halls. "Winchesters, I need to talk to you!"

Dean rolled his eyes in annoyance. "I swear, if that demon keeps me up tonight, his life is going to be even more of a living hell."

Sam looked at his brother questioningly. "Should we go?"

"Nah, he can wait for a little while. Let him stew in his juices in that dark room and maybe tomorrow he'll come to his senses." Dean closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair.

Sam, eyes fixed on the ceiling in thought, asked, "Hey, what do you think?"

Dean smirked, eyes still closed. "That's a loaded question, Sammy. Any topic in particular?"

"About what the demon said. Don't act like you didn't hear it."

Dean's smile fell from his face. "I'm not going to pretend like I didn't." Dean's face hardened. "That son of a bitch had no right to talk about them like that."

For some reason, Dean hardly ever said their names after they died. Sam would just know who his brother was talking about, without their names driving a deeper wound into their already-scarred chests. Sam would think about them a lot, in dreams or in certain situations. He'd see a quirky girl on the street, and his mind would jump to Charlie, one of the smartest and sweetest people he'd ever met. A college student would pass by, and Sam could only think of Kevin, wishing the poor kid had never met them, and could be the successful Ivy-league student he should have been. Dean had these same thoughts, but pushed them down farther and farther; the memories just hurt too much. When Dean had said their names, they were questions, asked by a shell-shocked man to a couple of kids who wouldn't wake up. Sam still remembered how his brother had stumbled blindly, staring at the girl they had considered their little sister, whispering, "Charlie?". It was a quiet plea to wake up, but also a contract, forever sealing the fate of a part of their ever-shrinking family, death stealing her away like a thief in the night.

"Do you think…" Sam trailed off, and Dean knew exactly what he was going to say. _Do you think he's right?_

 _Do you think we're the monsters?_

Dean said nothing, but the unspoken resolve between the brothers was _Yes._ They carried the weight of every person they'd ever let down and failed to protect. The guilt was suffocating and unnecessary, yet in their minds a lot of the good they had done over the years had been wiped off the record by the people they lost along the way.

The thoughts were too heavy. They both pushed them far away, to the back of their minds, out of sight but still tangible.

Dean patted Sam's shoulder, reassuring him the only way he knew how. "I'm going to hit the hay. Don't stay up too late."

Sam gave a half-smile. "Yeah, of course."

"G'night, Sammy."

"'Night, Dean."

The footsteps faded, until disappearing altogether, leaving the bunker in silence once again.

The bunker was not silent for long. Tara had not been asleep, but had been waiting. Listening. When she heard the last set of footsteps pass the door, signaling Sam turning in for the night, she peeked her head out of her door. With a stealth acquired from years of sneaking experience, she crept down the hallway until she came to the dungeon. She stood there for a moment, staring. A voice in her head was telling her to stay out, but the rest of her was screaming for her to open the door. She reached out her hand, running it over the smooth, cool metal of the knob, before gripping it and pulling it open.

For a second, her breathing stopped. There was the demon, Belial, the one that had haunted her nightmares, was sitting five feet in front of her, bloody with a bowed head.

"Back for more, Winchesters?" The demon taunted. When it raised its head and saw Tara, it grinned, looking completely delighted. "Well, well, look who it is. Has the widdle girl come out to play?"

Tara said nothing, studying Belial closely. Her confidence was shaken, but she didn't show it. She stayed stone-faced, a skill acquired through years of practice.

Belial spoke again. "What's the matter, cat got your tongue? You obviously had something to say, so go on, ask away."

Tara kept her distance, but looked the demon straight in the eyes. "Why did you do it?"

Belial let out an exasperated sigh. "For fuck's sake, it's like everyone is stuck on a broken record. For the last time, I'm not telling anyone about the werewolf blood."

"Not that. That night, when I was young. Why did you come to my house? Why attack us?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"Because it doesn't matter anymore, does it? You're going to die anyway, one way or another. No one would ever know. Besides, it was 10 years ago; whatever you came for you must've got."

"We didn't get what we came for."

"And what was that?"

The demon smiled smugly. "You can figure that out."

Tara began to think out loud, circling Belial as she thought. "I have some ideas to start with. Let's see, what do demons come for? Vengeance? No, that's not it. There were a lot of you, not just one. An ambush? No. An attack? A raid?" The demon's eyes lit up at the last suggestion, so she continued with that. "Ok, so a raid. But raid parties are looking for something. What would a demon look for? Not money, not that we had any…" It hit her like lightning. "You want power. Let me guess…a weapon. Powerful enough that it takes a small army of demons to capture. And even that failed."

She spun around, enlightened. This time, she was the one looking smug. "Now that we've established what it was, maybe you could add on to the story."

Belial glared at her, but started with the story anyways. "There was a huge power surge, unlike anything we'd seen. Anything that powerful is something we'd love to get our hands on." For a moment, the demon almost looked whimsical. "With that kind of power, I would've been a god."

"Lucky you never found it then."

"All we ever found was your crummy family."

Tara chose to ignore him as another thought dawned on her. "Wait a minute, demons come for power…That's what the werewolf blood is for. You need it for something. A ritual? A spell?"

The demon's eyes lit up again. "You said you were on an errand for Lucifer, though. Why would Lucifer need a spell? He's the freaking _devil_. He's got unfathomable powers. Unless…" Tara's eyes widened, "…he's not powerful anymore."

The demon winced, and Tara knew she was on to something. "He fought the Darkness, didn't he? That's a lot to take on, even for him. Even though she's dead, he's still weak. It's been almost a year now, but he's still not up to speed. He's weak. He's _vulnerable_. He needs the spell to power up again."

"That's far-fetched, don't you think? You really think the Winchesters will buy that?" He looked at her closely. "They will never believe you. They don't trust you."

"They don't have to." Tara pulled her phone out of her pocket. She showed it to the demon. He watched as the mic picked up every sound in the room. She pressed the stop button. "I have everything I need right here." She put it back in her pocket. "I'm going to get the Winchesters. They're going to find out exactly what spell Luci's using, and then your usefulness has expired."

In Tara's ramblings, she hadn't noticed that the devils trap had been breached by a leak in the ceiling. The demon had somehow wiggled his way out of the handcuffs, and the ropes were weak and breakable. "In that case…" the demon started. The ropes snapped and before Tara could react, the demon was on top of her, lashing out. She didn't even have a chance to cry out.

The demon grabbed an angel blade off the table and held it up to her face. "They said if I hurt you, I'd die. But since I'm gonna die anyways, there's no point in keeping you alive, is there?"

The demon swung the blade down, but Tara moved her head. The tip of the blade was mere inches from her ear. Tara kicked at the demon, hard, and it was stunned enough for her to get away. She turned and swung the dungeon door closed, breathing heavily. The doors began to rumble and shake. "Come on, now," the demon chuckled from inside. "It's time for the orphan girl to join her family."

She needed a weapon, _now._ She also couldn't let the demon walk around the bunker unchecked. It was too dangerous. Tara searched the walls for something to defend herself with. There, on the table, was an angel blade. The only problem was, it was completely shattered. There was still part of a jagged blade still attached, but if it came down to hand-to-hand combat, she would lose.

She needed to lure it somewhere, somewhere she could get the upper hand and where there were no magical items to use. _The garage._

The door crashed down, making a loud bang. Tara grabbed the jagged blade and ran, the demon close behind.

Sam woke to the sound of a crash. He shot up in bed, grabbing an angel blade and bolting out of the room. As he rushed down the hallway, fearing the worst, he noticed the door to Tara's room was open. A quick glance inside the room was enough for him to realize that she wasn't there. _Shit._

As he neared the dungeon, he saw Dean running towards him. They met in the middle.

"What the hell was that noise?"

"I'm guessing it was the sound of the dungeon door breaking down," Dean said, breathing heavily. "There was a breach in the devil's trap, and the demon somehow got his way out of the ropes. The angel blade is missing too."

"Dean, Tara's not in her room, and that demon is dangerous enough without a weapon."

Dean's face went pale, but he quickly covered it up. "Split up. You take the west wing and I'll take the east. Let's find this SOB."

Tara was running out of places to run. Even though she had made a beeline for the garage, going full speed, the demon was close behind her. Her leg was still weak from the break, and she was _not_ ready to bolt like she used to. The garage was close, she just had to keep going.

She rounded the corner only to come face to face with the demon. "Did you really think you could run from me?"

Tara lashed out with the jagged blade, striking Belial across the eye. He cried out, both in pain and anger, and brought his hand up to his eye. Before she could strike again, he caught her hand, forcing it backward into a painful position. She kicked at his legs, finally making contact, striking him off his feet.

She tried to run, but he caught her ankle, bringing her down and sliding the jagged blade out of reach. The demon was up, wiping the blood from his eye and stooping over her, ready to strike. Tara was on her stomach, unable to see the demon, but she knew he was there. She needed to get the blade, which was so tantalizing close, within her sight, but just out of her grasp.

Tara began to crawl on her elbows. She reached out to grab the knife. She felt her fingers brush the cold metal. Belial grabbed her ankle and dragged her backwards.

He played with the blade, running his finger along the blunt side. "Ready to die?"

Tara turned herself over, and watched with wide eyes as the demon raised the blade, ready to strike. Suddenly, she felt a metal object in her hand, and without thinking she thrust it forward, right into the demon's exposed chest.

Belial glanced down at his chest in disbelief, staring at the broken angel blade embedded deep into his chest. The blade he had been brandishing dropped from his hand. He was flickering, his light fading. He swayed, unbalanced, and fell forward. Tara had just enough time to roll out of the way before the demon hit the floor with a surprisingly quiet thump.

As Tara stared at the lifeless eyes at the demon next to her, she suddenly felt a rush of emotions. Pride, for killing the son of a bitch, fear, because just a few seconds she was going to die, and also overwhelming confusion. Had the blade always been in her hand? She didn't think she had grabbed it. Plus, wouldn't the demon have seen it? She wasn't hiding it, and she had in all honesty thought that she was going to die. The angel blade had been too far out of her reach. Hadn't it?

The adrenaline that had kept her alive before was now turning into a sense of panic. Tara had killed the only lead they'd had. Yes, they knew what Lucifer was doing, but this demon could've given so much more information. And she had messed it all up.

But this was her family's killer, or one of them. She had avenged them, right? But it didn't make her feel any better. There was no closure, no satisfaction, just a dead body.

Too many thoughts in too little time flooded her head, leaving her dizzy and even more confused than before. She ran a hand over her face, trying to wipe away the thoughts, but was surprised to find it was wet with something warm and sticky. Looking down, she saw that it was covered with blood. In fact, _she_ was covered with blood; whether it was hers or Belial's, she didn't know. All she knew is that she wanted to run, away from the blood, away from the walls that were closing in, to the place that she had felt the safest. Instead of ignoring the instinct, she gave into it, and took off down the hallway, sprinting towards the garage.

Dean was making his way down the east hallway when he spotted something red seeping around the corner, creating a puddle. Dean inhaled sharply, saying a silent prayer to a God that he wasn't sure was even listening. _Please, not Tara,_ he pleaded. _She's just a kid. Let her be okay._

He closed his eyes, taking one more deep breath. He turned the corner to see the demon lying face down in a puddle that was hopefully his own blood. Dean had seen enough dead demons to determine that this demon was dead as a doornail. But this created another problem: a demon that could've given them the answers they were looking for was wasted beyond repair. They would have to start from square one.

And another question emerged: If the demon was dead, then where was Tara?

Sam appeared at the end of the hallway, and began jogging towards Dean. "I searched the entire west wing and I couldn't find a trace of—" Sam stopped running and talking, staring at the pool of blood currently making its way toward Dean's boots. Sam slumped against the wall, as if the strength had been seeped from his body. His eyes were fixed on the floor and the blood, and he seemed to have trouble finding words.

He swallowed. "Is…is that…"

"No," Dean shook his head. "Come take a look."

Sam stood up straight and looked around the corner. "Jesus," he breathed.

"You can say that again. This dude is gone." Dean squatted down and examined the body. Noticing the blood was coming from under the demon, he turned it over. There, in the middle of the chest, was an angel blade. When Dean pulled the blade out, he was surprised to discover a jagged, broken blade.

"Where's the rest of it?" Sam asked, also surprised.

As Dean studied the blade, they heard the revving of a car engine coming from the garage. The brothers jumped to their feet and took off toward the garage. They entered the garage just in time to see Tara's red truck zoom out of the garage, leaving a rush of air behind it.

The brothers stood there for a moment, a little confused. "Why the hell would she run?" Sam thought aloud, obviously not expecting an answer from Dean.

"There's something very wrong here, Sammy."

"Yeah, I can see that, Dean."

"Get the ammo and your stuff. Meet me at the car in ten minutes."

"Why do we need ammo?"

Dean shrugged. "It's just a precaution. Who's to say that the demon didn't smoke out?"

"Are you saying Tara's possessed?"

"I'm saying it's a possibility. Now _go."_

Three hours later, the Impala was parked in front of a cemetery in Fremont, Nebraska. "Are you sure that's where she is?" Dean asked.

"Her car is parked here, and this is where her phone is," Sam said, pointing at the little red dot on the digital map.

"Well let's go then."

The brothers exited the car and made their way into the graveyard. It was noticeably empty, save for the one girl staring at the gravestones in front of her.

"Tara?" Sam called out cautiously. Her head turned, acknowledging the brothers' presence.

"Hey guys." Tara's voice cracked, but she cleared her throat as if it had never happened and continued. "Sorry for running off. I just…" She sighed. "I just couldn't stay there. I didn't mean to worry you."

Dean looked right at Tara and said, "Christo." Tara didn't flinch, but instead shook her head. "I'm not possessed, if that's what you're thinking."

Sam looked around the graveyard, studying his surroundings. "I know how it feels to want to run, but why run here?"

Tara gave a sad smile. "This is my hometown. I think I could make it back here in my sleep." She closed her eyes, reminiscing. "After everything that's happened, I just needed a little taste of home. Although, this place doesn't really feel like home, not anymore."

She turned and pointed her finger. "My old house is 10 miles that way. Or _was_ that way."

"Was?" Dean repeated.

"It completely burned down when I was six. And that's why I'm here." Tara turned back to the graves. "I needed to come back here, to see them." She pointed at the gravestones one by one, making a list. "My mother, my father and…" her voice got caught in her throat, "…my older brother, Daniel."

The word brother meant something to the Winchesters, and almost instinctively they cast a glance at each other. Sam cleared his throat and asked, "If you don't mind me asking, what did happen?"

Tara took a deep breath and began. "I was six, and it was in the middle of the night. Daniel shakes me awake, and he tells me to come with him, because we have to run. My dad was grabbing weapons out of our closet, and my brother was carrying me to the back door. There were demons in our front yard. We didn't live near anyone, we just lived on the outskirts of town, and the demons were there, in our yard, with my mom at knife-point, asking my dad to give them something. And then there's a scream." A tear slipped out of Tara's eye, but she wiped it away and continued. "My mom was in our front yard, in a pool of her own blood, and these things just start storming the house."

"I was screaming for my mom, and I tried to go to her, but Daniel held me back. My dad handed my twelve-year-old brother a shotgun and told him to take me and run as fast as he can. So Daniel grabbed my hand and dragged me through the back door. The demons are _everywhere;_ it's like a fucking swarm. There were screams coming from the house, but we never looked back. Daniel just kept saying, _it's gonna be okay, alright? We're gonna go somewhere safe and Dad is gonna meet us and you're going to be just fine._ And I wanted to believe it, you know?"

Tara was on the verge of hysterical. "They just kept _coming_ and _coming_ and they wouldn't leave us alone. They were following us, and they wouldn't stop, so Daniel told me to keep running. And I _did._ I ran and ran until I was at this old cellar, and I hid."

"What did your brother do?"

"He fought them off." Tara gave a short, humorless laugh through her tears. "Imagine that. A twelve-year-old boy fighting off a whole hoard of demons. He never stood a chance."

Her eyes were filled with tears, and in each breath, there was a hidden sob. "I heard him cry out and I just stood there, frozen. It was silent for a while, and when I finally came up, the whole house was engulfed in flames." She sucked in another breath and looked at the sky to calm herself. "Those bastards _dragged_ my brother's body back into the fire to burn. It was nice and tidy for them, but what about me, huh?! WHAT ABOUT ME?!" She got very quiet, obviously distraught, and whispered, "I didn't even get to say goodbye. I should've been with him. I never should have left him to die alone."

"Hey, look at me." Tara turned to Sam, who had bent down and was looking at her right in the eyes. "This is not your fault. You were just a kid, and staying with him would've just gotten you killed."

"But that was my family. All of them are gone." She sobbed, "I was so alone. I don't want to be alone anymore."

To her surprise, Tara found herself in a hug. It was warm and comforting, and something she had missed. Instead of holding in the tears, like she normally would, she let them come out in full force. "It's not your fault," Sam said gently. "And you're not alone."

 _I'm not alone anymore._ Tara could've laughed. _I'm not alone._

As much as she didn't want to, she pulled back from the hug and wiped the tears from her eyes. She took a couple deep breaths and tried to calm herself. "Thank you," she said, looking at the ground, slightly embarrassed. "Thank you for coming after me."

"Any time, kid." Dean shot her a reassuring smile that made a small smile grace Tara's mouth. She went up to her brother's gravestone and knelt down, touching the stone with her hand. "See you later, bro. Miss you." She looked at the other gravestones, which read _G. and Alicia DiAngelo: Loving Parents._ "Miss you too, Mom and Dad."

She stood up and the three of them began walking towards the exit. "Sorry about the demon," Tara apologized. "I should've never gone near that thing. I just _needed_ to know, you know?"

"Yeah, we get it," Dean said, accepting the apology. "But we still have no idea what he wanted with those werewolves."

Tara's eyes widened and she began to search her pockets. "Oh my god, I almost forgot." The Winchesters watched in confusion as she pulled out her phone and handed it to them. She was so excited and exasperated that she stumbled over her words, trying to find the right ones to say. "I hadn't really thought that I'd get very far, because you guys didn't get very far, but he really liked to hear himself talk. He talked a lot, mostly nonsense, but he did give some clues about what he was doing. I kind of deduced the rest, and he basically admitted it at the end. I got an audio recording."

She rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. "In hindsight, I probably should've gotten a video recording, since a lot of the stuff he gave away was by facial expressions…"

The Winchesters looked at her and then each other. "Hey Sammy," Dean questioned, "were the dungeon security cameras running?"

A grin lit up Sam's face. "All night."

"Does that mean what I think it means?" asked Tara, kind of shocked.

"It means," Dean grinned, "that we have our first lead on the devil in almost a year."

 **A/N: Hey guys! Sorry it's been so long. Finals were a bitch. I really appreciate all the support I've gotten while writing this! Expect a new chapter soon. Reviews are welcome!**

 **-Sweet Victori**


	10. Blood and Water

"There are only a couple of spells that can charge up an archangel after a fight like the one against the Darkness." Sam dropped a pile of books in the middle of the table in the bunker. "And all of them are in these books."

Dean took a book from the stack. "I guess we'd better get cracking."

The Winchesters and Tara spent hours looking through the books. Sam would pace the room, reading, while Dean had grabbed a beer out of the fridge and would occasionally take a sip (or a gulp) while turning through the pages. Tara had one earbud in her ear, listening to some music to help her concentrate. There were times that someone would read a particularly interesting passage aloud, or someone made an odd remark (usually Dean), but mostly, they studied in silence.

"So get this," Sam said, breaking the quiet that had descended over the bunker. He read from the book in his hand. " _The 'virtus quaestum' spell draws the power from the four phyla of the supernatural kingdom, as well as the basic spell ingredients. The spell allows for supernatural entities, especially powerful ones, to regain, maybe even increase, their previous potential."_

"That would explain the werewolf blood," Tara stated.

"Wait a minute," Dean cut in. "What does it mean, "four phyla of the supernatural kingdom"?"

"It could be like groups, like how the animal kingdom is divided up."

"I read something about the supernatural phyla somewhere," Tara remembered, scanning the books on the table. She grabbed one and flipped through it, until she came to page she needed. She read the page aloud:

" _Supernatural entities can be divided into four groups: ductu, a group based on instinct; imperium, those who rely on magic and/or powerful forces to survive; viribus, a group based on strength; and putaverunt, those who rely on psychological methods."_ She skimmed the page until she came to more helpful information. _"Animalistic entities, such as werewolves, manticore, and chupacabras, can be classified in the ductu category, while more mythical creatures, such as dragons, vampires, and phoenixes, can be placed in the viribus category."_

Tara stopped reading, and all three tried to make sense of the words that they had heard. "So let me get this straight," Dean started. "Lucifer needs blood from every category to complete his power-up spell. We stopped him from getting the werewolf blood, but probably not for long. By now, he's probably gotten what he needs."

"I think I know how," Sam said, looking at his phone. "I texted Garth and he says that hunters have found groups of dragons, werewolves, djinns, and witches dead.

Tara went over to the filing cabinets and pulled out a map of the U.S. She spread the map across the table and grabbed a red Sharpie. "Where were they found?"

"All of them were found not too far from here," Sam stated, a bit confused. "One in Hastings, Nebraska, and the other three were in towns in Kansas."

"Where?"

"Belleville, Phillipsburg, and Lucas."

She marked the locations on the map, and the three of them stared at the map, a realization dawning on all of them.

"We're in the middle of all of it," Dean said, tracing the lines with his finger. "Lucifer is creating a circle of death, and we're in the exact center."

Tara shook her head, bewildered. "But why the hell would he do that? Why would he show his hand like that?"

"You obviously don't know Lucifer," Sam said bluntly. "He's taunting us. He knows we have nothing to stop him, so he wants us to watch as he wins."

"It can't be over just like that," Tara said, glancing at the brothers' faces. "Even if the spell does work, it would take a while to accumulate that much power, so we'll still have time to stop it from completely finishing."

"There's something else, too." Eyes turned to Sam, whose eyes were focused at the book in his hand. "When the spell does complete, it does so explosively."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that anyone in a 20-mile radius is going to be plowed down by a blast as powerful as an atom bomb."

Tara fell back in her seat. "Holy shit."

"So what's our play?" Dean asked.

"Like Tara said, there are signs that the spell has already started."

"What kind of signs?"

"Basically, the ten plagues of Egypt: frogs, locusts, the whole shebang. Some biblical shit is about to happen."

"Great," Dean said sarcastically. "All we have to do is wait for fire to start raining from the sky."

Sam noticed that Tara looked a little pale. "Hey, you okay?"

She seemed to snap out of her daze. "Um, yeah, I'm fine. I just need some air, that's all." She got up out of her chair and slipped out the bunker's door.

The brothers exchanged a glance, but said nothing about her odd behavior. "How _are_ we gonna ice the devil?" Sam asked.

Dean rubbed his hands over his face. "I wish I knew, Sammy. We got nothing, and Lucifer knows it. Anything we do, we die."

Suddenly, Sam got an idea. "What if we corrupted the spell?"

"What do you mean, corrupt?"

"Like how you can infect a computer with a virus. We add an ingredient to the spell that, instead of giving him a power-up, drains his power."

"We can do that?"

"Theoretically, yes. We just have to find the right ingredient."

"Well, what are we waiting for? Grab a book."

Tara sat outside, her back braced against a tree, trying to catch her breath. Storm clouds gathered over her head, but she ignored them, forcing herself to calm down.

"Why are you freaking out, anyway?" She asked herself aloud. "It's only the _devil himself_. The Winchesters aren't worried, so why the hell are you?"

Tara hated feeling this weak and vulnerable. It was the end of the world, and it was an "all-hands-on-deck" situation, and she had become a quivering mess. Not that the Winchesters needed her, anyway. They'd defeat Lucifer with or without her.

She felt a drop of rain hit her forehead. When she wiped it off, she noticed that it seemed thicker than water would be. Looking down at her hand, she saw the liquid that she had wiped off of her forehead was a deep, dark red.

Realizing what it was, she quickly wiped it on the leaves on the forest floor. More drops hit her forehead, and suddenly blood was coming down from the sky in torrents. The air smelled of copper and there was a terrible sense of doom that swept through the woods as the sky turned black and thunder crashed and lightning flashed. Tara got up as quickly as she could, horrified, and took off toward the bunker, doing her best to shield herself from the blood pouring from the sky.

The door to the bunker slammed open, causing both brothers' heads to turn. Lightning flashed outside, revealing a figure in the doorway. The door slammed shut, and both brothers were on their feet, watching cautiously as the figure trudged down the stairs.

When it came into the light, Sam and Dean were taken aback. There stood Tara, covered with blood, looking like she just stepped out of a horror movie.

"What the hell happened? Are you okay?" Sam asked as he eyed her up and down, noticing the blood that soaked her from head to toe.

Tara tried to wipe the blood from her eyes, looking shocked and quite traumatized. When she spoke, she spoke slowly, as if trying to comprehend what had just happened. "You wanted plagues? Well, for starters, it's raining blood."

"That means it's already started. We have to find Lucifer _now._ "

Before the group could figure out what this new information meant, Tara inquired, "Hey, I know this is serious and all, but could either one of you get me a towel?" Looking down at herself, she added, "Preferably not a _white_ towel."

"Yeah, sure," Dean said, leaving to get the towel, but turning around to add, "Just stay here. We don't want the blood getting everywhere." He left.

Looking down at herself again, and at the trail she'd left, she said, "Yeah, that's fair."

Dean tossed her the towel and she wiped the blood from her face and clothes. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a _long_ shower." Looking at the red stain on the towel, she added. "Make that _two_ long showers."

Tara left the room, still scrubbing to get the already-drying blood off of her face.

"Well, at least we finally have a starting point. If this is the spell I read about, then this should leave a trail, a trail leading straight to Lucifer."

"But why would he do that?" Dean pondered. "Why would he leave a trail for us to follow?"

Realization hit Sam like a train. "He _wants_ us to find him. He knows that we have nothing to fight him with, so he's taunting us, daring us to confront him."

"So it's a trap? What if we just don't walk into it?"

"If he completes that spell, anyone in at least a 20-mile radius dies. We can't just sit by and watch when we can do something."

"No, we can't."

Sam ran his hand through his hair. "It really sucks to be the heroes sometimes."

"Sometimes?" Dean snorted. "Dude, have you seen our lives? It _always_ sucks to be the heroes."

Sam shook his head, and silently pondered how their lives had come to this. A demon and a missing father? Yes please. Almost anything was better than this.

Then Sam cast a glance at his brother, who was searching the shelves for a book on tracking spells, and revised his statement. _Almost_ anything was better than this. But it wasn't always the worst job in the world, either. It always helped to have someone to watch your back.

Dean called his brother over, and the two began preparing the spell

The spell was almost complete when Tara entered the library, hair soaked and all traces of blood gone from her body. She peered into the bowl, full of mystical ingredients. "So this should lead us to Lucifer?"

"Yeah. I have the angel feather ready, too, when the time comes to stop Lucifer's hex. The tracking spell should start working anytime now."

As if on cue, the bowl lit up with a blinding light. It shot smoke up into the air, painting a map and pointing to where the spell was being kept.

Realizing where it was, everyone's faces went white. "That's…that's not…" Dean stuttered, trying to find the words to describe the fear he felt deep in his bones.

"Chicago," Sam swallowed, forcing his panic back inside himself. "He's in Chicago."

"But you said everyone in a 20-mile radius would be obliterated!" Tara almost cried. "There are _millions_ of people in Chicago. They're all going to die." She got very quiet, realizing the price of failure. "Millions of people could die."

"They're not going to," Dean said, gaining a new sense of resolve. The apocalypse would not come to pass, not on his watch. Not on _their_ watch. "Sam?"

"Got it," Sam replied, already making his way toward the weapons closet. He pulled out shotguns and angel blades and bullets with devil's traps carved in them, talking as he worked. "Each plague happens every two hours, each closer to the point of the spell. We only have 12 hours, at most, to get there and stop the last plague before it wipes out every firstborn in the area, and definitely the whole thing goes up in flames."

"Okay, so work quickly. Got it," Tara said, but as she moved to grab her stuff, Dean stepped in front of her. "Hey, what gives?"

"You're not coming."

Tara shook her head, wondering if she'd heard him correctly. "I'm sorry?"

"You're not coming."

Tara was incredulous. "And why the hell not?"

"It's too dangerous. This is the devil we're talking about, kid, not some second-rate demon."

"Which is why you need me! I can help."

"No, no way."

Tara could feel her face getting hot. "What, are you afraid I'll get in the way? That I'll mess something up?"

"No, of course not." Dean was beginning to raise his voice too.

"Then why won't you let me come?! I don't have a lot to bring to the table, but I know that I am willing to die to make sure that Lucifer never wins!"

"You are not coming!"

"And why not?! Give me a reason. Give me one good reason!"

"Someone needs to look after the bunker while we're gone."

"The bunker can look after itself! I'm not a house-sitter, you know. I can fight! I can shoot!"

"For the last time you are NOT coming!"

"AND WHY THE FUCK NOT?"

"BECAUSE YOU COULD DIE!" Dean yelled. The whole bunker got strangely silent. Dean took a deep breath and spoke more calmly. "You could die, and that is not something we would like to see. At least one of us needs to live, and it's going to be you."

Tara's voice got really soft and gentle. "This is a suicide mission, you know that, right? An all-hands-on deck situation. If you think I'm going to stand around while you get yourselves killed—"

"Please." That was all it took. Tara stopped arguing, but Dean continued. "No one else dies for us. If we go out, we go out knowing that the people we care about are safe. And that's good enough."

Tara looked between Dean and Sam, who had briefly paused in his work and was currently fixated on the floor. "Okay," she said reluctantly. "I won't come with you."

"Thank you," Dean said as he and Sam left the room, leaving Tara alone with her thoughts.

Less than half an hour later, the brothers stood with the loaded Impala at their backs, and a distressed teen facing them. Tara didn't hesitate to hug each of the boys tightly, and didn't protest as Sam placed a light kiss to her hair, a display of familial affection she would definitely miss. She pushed back the tears in her eyes and the lump in her throat as she said, "You guys come back soon, you here?"

"Yes ma'am," Dean saluted, making her smile through the pain.

She never said goodbye, she only said "see you later", thinking that saying goodbye would make everything real, and with "see you later" maybe they'd get lucky and come back with only a couple of bruises and a great story. She heard the roar of the Impala coming to life, and watched as the boys drove away, and flashing a small smile when Sam waved from the window. She watched the car zoom down the road, standing still until the car had long disappeared from view.

Tara managed to hold in the tears until she got to the library. When she saw how the usually-full chairs were empty, and how the signs of life had all but disappeared from the room, she collapsed in a chair and sobbed. Her tears stained her cheeks, and the thought that no one was there to comfort her made it all worse. She hated this. She hated being alone.

She had other friends, somewhere. She hadn't seen them in forever, but they were like family. Maybe if she could find them….

 _NO!_ Her mind screamed as she brought her fist down hard on the wooden table top. Tara wasn't about to forget everything the Winchesters had done for her. She knew she had made a promise, but fuck it, this was important, a matter of life or death. This wasn't a game, and she'd be damned if she let them walk towards death alone.

She grabbed her laptop, typing out a message she had thought of writing one hundred times before. _I'm about to do something incredibly stupid and dangerous, so if I die, know that I will miss you so much._ Her fingers flew across the keys, and she hoped that would be enough to make them understand what she was doing and why. _I'm sorry, but there are times to run and hide, and times to take a stand._ Tara pressed send, essentially sending a suicide note to two people who'd probably never even see her body.

She stood up on shaking legs, a new resolve and energy flowing through her. "There are times to run and times to hide," she announced to an empty room. "But eventually, everyone has to stop running and face the reaper."

Tara stormed out of the room, grabbing her angel blade and making her way toward the garage. Sam and Dean wouldn't die alone. They wouldn't die at all, if she had some say in it. It was time to stop running. It was time to fight.

 **A/N:** **Hey Guys! School has been insane, but I plan to finish this story before season 13 starts, so hang tight!**


	11. Running with the Devil

The Impala zoomed along the highway, going well above the speed limit. AC/DC blasted through the speakers, Dean humming along and Sam complaining about the noise, but secretly enjoying the familiar tunes. However, when the first notes of "Highway to Hell" sounded, Dean drastically lowered the volume, before removing the cassette completely. As he put it, "There's a fine line between irony and just plain cruelty."

And for hours of the trip, that's how it was. Music, a couple of jokes, and the open road. Then, everything lit up. Literally.

Dean slammed on the brakes, causing the car to skid to a stop along the desolate country road. Both brothers stepped out of the car in shock, staring at the scene before them. "What the hell?" Sam stuttered, too shocked to say anything else.

The small town in front of them was totally ablaze. Every building in the village was engulfed in flames that rose high and hot. People, presumably the town's residents, filled the streets, panicking as their homes and stores burned to the ground. Children and adults alike screamed and sobbed. One little boy called out for his mother, who was either lost in the crowd or who had suffered a much worse fate. The smoke filled the air, clogging the lungs of anyone in the vicinity and causing their eyes to burn, tears filling the citizens' eyes. As the firefighters and townspeople rushed to put out the flames, more black smoke corrupted the once-clear air, drifting upwards and turning the blue sky black as night.

Fire and Winchesters had never mixed very well, but the brothers gathered themselves and took a couple of cautious steps into town. A young woman sat on the curb of the street, ash on her cheeks and in her hair. She blankly stared at the fire consuming the town. Sam crouched down and looked in her eyes, concerned. She barely registered his presence, and only turned her gaze away from the flames when Sam asked, "Are you okay?"

"Do you know where David is?" She asked, obviously in shock. "I haven't seen him in hours… do you think he's okay?"

 _No,_ Sam knew, _whoever David is, he is probably not okay._ Instead of telling her that, Sam just patted her shoulder, and asked gently, "What happened here?"

The tears flowed from the woman's eyes. "Fire. Everything was burning. It was raining fire from the sky. Anything it hit burned."

The plagues were progressing faster than either brother had anticipated. Sam wanted to stop and console the woman, but there was no time. Instead, he gave the now-sobbing female a gentle pat on her shoulders and stood, making eye contact with his brother, both silently agreeing to depart. As they drove through the town, the people stared at the car, the only car daring to drive through the flames surrounding them. The ash-stained faces of the unfortunate citizens only made the Winchesters more determined to stop Lucifer in his tracks, even if it would be the end of them.

The radio on the drive brought even more bad news: _"A freak swarm of locusts has destroyed more than a miles' worth of crops near the small town of Geneva, Illinois. Experts are baffled by the cause of this swarm, and it is estimated that at least 90% of all crops in this area have be completely destroyed."_

This development was disturbing, to say the least, but Dean was able to find a small silver lining on the dark cloud. "Hey, at least no one got hurt," He pointed out, trying to brighten the dreary situation a little. "Plus, can you imagine what it would've been like if we had driven through that? I don't know about you, but that many bugs on a windshield sounds like too much to handle."

The brothers were nearing the Chicago warehouse when a blanket of darkness descended over everything in sight. It was only about 4:00 in the afternoon, yet everything became pitch black. The stars weren't even visible overhead, and the moon was missing as well. The darkness came so fast that drivers were startled, scared out of their wits. Dean had to swerve to avoid a man who had slammed on his brakes in the middle of the road, staring up at the "night" sky that had descended.

The Impala was parked a block away from the warehouse, in a dark alley hidden from view. As the brothers gathered their weapons from the trunk, Sam posed a question that had somehow never come up in Winchester conversation beforehand.

"Do you think it will be easier this time?"

Dean cast a side glance at his brother but did not stop unloading. "What are you talking about?"

"Dying." Dean stopped completely this time, looking his brother in the eyes. Sam continued. "I mean, we've died enough. This time it will be final. Billie is going to make sure of that."

"I don't know if it's going to be easy. Lucifer's not going to let us go easy."

"But still," Sam speculated, "it's going to be it. No heaven, no hell, just nothing."

"That's the way a lot of hunters want to go. I have to admit, it sounds a little appealing."

"It does sound like a break." Sam admitted. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it.

"What?" Dean asked.

"I just… I always thought that when it was over, we'd go to heaven. You know, get to see the people we lost." Sam shook his head. "It was a long shot, I knew that, but I always hoped, you know?"

Dean just gave a small smile. "You always were the dreamer, Sammy." The smile disappeared. "Sorry that this wasn't everything you hoped for."

Sam patted his brother on the shoulder. "We had a pretty good run, didn't we?"

Dean grinned. "Hell yeah we did. Now let's go kick some ass."

Every mission has its setbacks. No matter how much planning you put in, something is bound to go wrong. Considering the Winchesters' luck with "setbacks" in the past, they already expected to hit a major roadblock. But they hadn't considered that it would be an actually _roadblock._

The tracking spell wasn't lying; Lucifer's spell was in the warehouse in the middle of the street. The problem was, the mostly-abandoned street had been blocked off on both sides, and black eyes could be seen through every window of every building on the block. Plus, there seemed to be a cloaking spell, where the human people who lived and worked around Hell Street (Dean named it, obviously) seemed to be completely oblivious to absolutely anything that occurred there.

At this point, the Winchesters had two options. In one scenario, they could storm down the middle of the street, guns blazing, hoping they don't run out ammunition before they get to the warehouse. In the other scenario, they could sneak in, to the best of their abilities, disrupt the spell and fight their way out. Option 2 was the one that could get them the closest to the spell without much conflict, and it was their best chance of stopping it before the final plague and the destruction of Illinois' biggest city.

The brothers began to move quietly down the street. The darkness was working in their favor; as long as they stood far from the street lights they could move undetected. It was all working out, at least for a while. They were almost at the warehouse when a figure appeared in front of them. Black eyes stared at the pair for a moment, then the demon shouted, "They're he-"

He was unable to finish, as Dean brought a knife up to slit the demon's throat, but it was too late. Demons began to swarm the street, blocking the way to the warehouse. Sam and Dean stood back to back, brandishing an angel blade in one hand and a gun in the other as the demons circled around them, like sharks circling their prey. A demon charged forward.

Then all hell broke loose.

Demons came in left and right. Most met the sharp end of a knife or had a devil's trap bullet fired into their heads, but that couldn't last forever. The Winchesters were far outnumbered, and the demons were already closing in.

The demons' hands were almost on the Winchesters when the revving of an engine caused all heads to turn. Down the street, riding a black Harley motorcycle, was a figure in jeans and combat boots, and a leather bikers jacket. The person's face was covered by the black motorcycle helmet.

The engine revved once more, and suddenly the motorcycle was flying down the street towards the street, the figure brandishing what looked like a water gun. Water sprayed from the gun, and demons screamed in agony as the droplets hit their skin. As the motorcycle circled the demons, the figure cut a bag of salt that was taped to the back of the bike, creating a circle of salt encompassing the confused demons. Sam and Dean took this opportunity to exit the circle as quickly as possible, slashing any demons that dared to get in their way. The figure stopped the motorcycle down the street, revved the engine, and then took off, full speed towards the door of the warehouse. Right before the bike hit the door, the person bailed, rolling to a stop on the cement while the motorcycle flew through the door and crashed into a wall.

Sam and Dean didn't have time to wonder what happened, but instead pulled the figure inside the doorway, which they lined with salt. Heavy breaths could be heard from inside the biker helmet, and the figure pulled it off, brown hair falling around her face as she panted.

"Tara?!"

"Hey guys," Tara managed between breaths. "How's it going?"

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Saving your asses, obviously."

"We asked you to stay back!"

"You asked me not to come. You never said I couldn't follow."

"And why on a motorcycle?"

"You slashed my tires, you dick! Which, if we survive this, you are so paying for."

"Do you even know how to drive a motorcycle?!"

"No, which makes what I just did even more impressive. I did _not_ think that was going to work."

Sam opened his mouth again, but Tara put her hand up. "I get it, you're pissed, but can we argue later? Something tells me we're going to have more to worry about very soon." She pointed out the door. The brothers looked where she was pointing and saw very angry demons already starting to slowly break through the salt circle she had created.

The three didn't need to speak again, but instead took off running down the corridor toward the center of the warehouse. There was no time for debate or arguing. The warehouse was getting darker and darker, and none of them could see a few feet beyond their faces. They could hear the sounds of restless, angry demons, and they ran faster. Surprisingly, they saw no demons anywhere as they sprinted down the halls, which worried them as much as it pleased them.

Finally, they reached a large opening, and in the center, just barely visible, was a wooden bowl containing everything needed to power up an archangel. Sam took off towards it, know that they would have mere seconds before the demons were upon them.

 _Please, God,_ Sam prayed, although he felt no one was listening, _Just this once. No complications, no mistakes. Just this once, let us be heroes._

He was so close now. The fire burning in the bowl slightly warmed him, keeping out the chill that had recently materialized. He pulled the ingredient out of his pocket and popped open the bottle easily. He looked at the dark abyss, just for a moment.

That was his mistake.

He suddenly understood why there had been no demons in the warehouse, why the spell was sitting unguarded in the middle of a giant room.

It wasn't unguarded.

There, in the middle of the black abyss, were two glowing red eyes, with an enraged fire inside of them. A voice spoke, one he had spent years trying to forget and still appeared in his worst nightmares. "Hiya, Sammy." The dark shadow stepped forward into the light, which had once seemed comforting but now became hellfire lighting up the cold features of the most feared being on Earth.

The eyes stared into Sam's very soul, and the voice taunted, "Did you miss me?"

Sam tried to throw the ingredient into the spell, but Lucifer caught the vial in his hand. "Uh, uh, uh, Sam. Didn't your mom ever teach you not to mess around with other people's things?"

With that, Lucifer waved his hand, and Sam flew backwards, slamming into the wall. Before Tara or Dean could move to help him, arms grabbed them from behind. Tara let out a surprised cry and fought to free her wrists, which had been pinned behind her back.

"Stop moving!" The demon yelled, infuriated. She felt a sharp pain on her right wrists, and cried out in agony. The demons shoved her and Dean against the wall to join Sam. Dean crouched over his brother, checking for damage. All three turned, however, when a chilling voice said, "Well, if it isn't my favorite family. How're you doing, boys? Have my demons been treating you well?"

"Where are you?" Dean asked, searching for a sign of the devil in the darkness in front of him. "I'd prefer to kill you face to face."

"Dean! Haven't lost your sense of humor, I see. You wanna see my face? Let there be light!"

Lights turned on with a snap of the devil's fingers. In the new light, Tara looked down at her painfully throbbing wrist, and saw a sizable cut. The blood flowed, staining the newly-torn leather bracelet.

"So you got my message!" Lucifer gloated, smiling and pacing the floor. "I knew you would. You know, I was planning on having you dead by now," he glared at his demons, "But, now that I think about it, it's going to be so much more fun to kill you myself. I would never miss an opportunity to see you bleed."

"What makes you so sure you've won?" Dean remarked. "Every time you think you have us, we find a way to get out."

Lucifer laughed humorlessly. "Good luck getting out of this one." He gestured to the hundred demons surrounding them. He shook the vial in his hand. "I have your plan right here." He closed his fist, crushing the bottle and summoning fire, which disintegrated the ingredient immediately. "Whoops."

"Besides," he chirped, "You don't have your angel friend here to save you anymore." Suddenly the boys felt a force push them against the wall, holding them there. "It's time for me to have some fun with you."

Tara, who had been trying to stop the blood flow of her wrist, let out a small groan of pain. Lucifer whipped his head around, cold eyes falling on the teen. His mouth formed a twisted grin.

"Boys, you didn't tell me you brought a friend!" He bent down and looked Tara in the eyes. "You shouldn't've come here, little girl. But I am so happy that you did."

He stood, looking to his demons with a cold stare. "Hold her."

The demons grabbed Tara's arms and dragged her forward, thrusting her at Lucifer's feet. The devil looked positively giddy. "It's always so exciting to meet a friend of the Winchesters'. They're normally dead."

"Leave her alone!" Sam yelled, while Dean looked ready to murder someone. "It's us you want, not her."

"Oh, is somebody jealous?" Lucifer taunted. "Don't worry, boys, you two will always be my favorites. But I never could resist a new toy."

Lucifer spotted the blood coming from Tara's wrist and growled. "Typical. I get a new toy and the first thing they do is break it. Luckily, it's an easy fix." He snapped his fingers and the blood and the cut disappeared.

"Now that that's cleared up," Lucifer knelt down and looked Tara in the eyes, "how would you feel if I made a couple of improvements to that pretty little face of yours?"

Tara stared him down, defiance in her eyes, drew herself together, and spit. The spit hit Lucifer right in the eyes. He stood up and flicked it out of his eyes. He sent an amused smile at the boys. "Feisty one, isn't she?"

His hand came down in a closed fist, and the next thing Tara heard was the sound of a foot cracking her ribs.

She gasped for air, in extreme pain. She looked up, only to be knocked in the face with powerful knuckles. The hits kept coming, each one more painful than the last. She vaguely heard Sam and Dean yelling, begging for Lucifer to stop, and threatening him with the worst fates imaginable, but it was all just noise.

The hits stopped, but her head rose only to see a knife being held at her cheekbone. She screamed as the blade sliced skin. Another noise rose above the Winchesters cries: the demons. They were _laughing._ It was a haunting cacophony that she had only heard in her nightmares. The noise was becoming too much, hurting her head as it grew louder and louder. She had told herself that she was ready to die, but now that it was time, she was terrified. And the noise wouldn't stop.

"Shut up," she whispered, coming out as more of a plea than a demand.

"Or what?" Lucifer taunted. "What are you going to do? What is the scared little girl gonna do? Are you gonna run to your mommy and daddy?"

The noise became overwhelming, a feeling like she had never known. It was like she was acutely aware of everything in the room: every noise, every voice, every movement. She felt something inside her, fighting to escape, to be free. Her fists clenched, and she found new strength in a way she never had before.

"I said _SHUT UP!_ "

With the last word, a power electrified the room, a force so powerful that it sent Lucifer backwards a few feet. The demons that had been holding her let go and backed away, looking terrified.

Her panic stilled existed, and she panted, trying to catch her breath, staring wide-eyed at the ground as the tears she hadn't realized had been falling stained her face. She felt no pain anymore. Bringing a hand up to her face, she found smooth skin, free of bruises, scars or flaws. She cast a glance at Sam and Dean, who stared back at her, shocked and in awe.

The noise was gone, but the pounding in her head still existed. The lights above their heads flickered. Lucifer, despite looking shocked, grinned. "The Angel of Death. She's here."

A wind blew through the warehouse, chilling all of those inside. A cloaked white figure, with the wings of an angel, floated in. The creature was nothing but wisps of light, but was altogether unsettling. It turned to Dean and moved swiftly towards him. It came for the firstborns, and the firstborns it should get.

"NO!" Tara cried, reaching out her hand. The figure turned from Dean and looked at Tara. Tara stared down at her own hand, which was grasping the Angel's wrist, and was _glowing._

"That's impossible," Lucifer stuttered. "You shouldn't be able to do that."

The Angel struggled to get out of Tara's grasp, but couldn't. The pounding in the teens head was getting stronger and stronger, and all at once, she knew what she had to do. She closed her eyes, and gave in.

The Winchesters stared at the girl in front of them, holding the Angel of Death hostage. Tara opened her eyes again, but this time they were glowing with a fierce intensity, a sparkling, unnatural color, an intense emerald-gold. She looked at the Winchesters, and cried, "Close your eyes!"

Sam and Dean, out of pure instinct, shut their eyes, and just in time too, for a blinding light lit up the dark room. The Angel of Death screamed in agony as the light ripped her apart. The spell in the middle of the room was completely destroyed as well, leaving nothing but ashes.

The light faded, and Lucifer saw what had been done. "NO!" He screamed, furious. He looked Tara in her glowing eyes, and said, "You're going to pay for that."

Motioning to his demons, he yelled, "Get her!"

The demons rushed forward, but a power pushed them backwards. The ground began to tremble and the whole warehouse threatened to come down. The lightbulbs began to shatter and thunder and lightning began to flash overhead.

The demons and Lucifer stared in awe as the lightning flashes revealed a magnificent sight. The shadows of wings unfolded around Tara, stretching from wall to wall, shielding both Winchesters. It was powerfully beautiful, and the demons were profoundly scared and tried to run. Tara lifted her arms, the light around her hands beginning to glow red. With a yell, she pushed the light forward. It went through the demons, pulling out the dark smoke from their bodies and gathering it in the air. The smoke ignited, and the sounds of a hundred dying demons echoed through the concrete halls.

Lucifer was livid. "So that's how you want to play, huh?" With a flick of his hand, he sent her flying into the wall. She was back on her feet surprisingly quickly, cracking her knuckles and her neck. She snapped her fingers and an angel blade appeared in her hand. She launched herself at Lucifer, striking his cheek with the blade before he blocked her attack. She dropped to the ground and swung her legs, causing him to slightly lose his balance and fall to his knee.

"ENOUGH!" He screamed, lifting her up in the air, cutting off her air supply. Tara felt herself beginning to choke as the air left her. She looked over at the boys, who had been watching, speechless. She looked at Sam, and gave him a half smile and a wink. She snapped her fingers, and suddenly the boys found themselves sitting in the front seat of the Impala.

"Very clever, but your Winchesters will never be able to save you." Lucifer grimaced as he tightened his hold.

The light began to gather around Tara, and for a second Tara cherished the look of pure surprise on the devil's face. Then she let loose, and her world exploded.

Sam and Dean heard the explosion and had taken off down the street. They watched in shock as the dust of the now-demolished warehouse rose into the sky. What had been a building minutes before was now a pile of rubble.

"Tara!" Dean yelled, jumping into the pile, turning over rocks and stones. Sam stood still, shell-shocked, praying that they hadn't lost another friend. "Cas?!" Dean called out for their angel friend in vain. "Anyone?!"

They heard a whooshing sound behind them. They both turned, staring at the dust covered teenage girl, or what they thought was a teenage girl, standing in front of them.

She gave them a small smile, taking a step forward, but stumbling. Tara swayed unsteadily, her legs unable to hold her. With an exhausted smile still on her face, her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she collapsed to the ground, unmoving.

Sam, who had been silent this whole time, finally spoke, "What the hell?!"

 **A/N: A new episode of supernatural premieres tonight! I'm planning on doing something with this story that they were planning to do on the show, but it will definitely vary at least a little bit from the new episodes. I had this idea first, but I guess the writers of the show had the same idea. Anyway, enjoy the premiere tonight, and check back soon for an update!**


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